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THE HIGHLANDER 







THE 

HIGHLANDER 


PAUL CURTIS 

It 




1 „ > 

) ** 

> > 

) > J 


LOTHROP , L££ £s? SHEPARD CO. 
BOSTON 1937 NEW YORK 

















Copyright 1937 


LOTHROP, LEE AND SHEPARD COMPANY 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be re¬ 
produced in any form without permission in writing 
from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes 
to quote brief passages in connection with a review 
written for inclusion in magazine or newspaper. 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 




110672 



A- ^ 


To 

MABS 

without whose encouragement this 
tale would never have been told 





< « ■ « « «■<■«■ * 

CONTENTS 

« <«««■«<* 



Foreword 

ix 

I 

The Coming of Ranald 

1 

II 

Montrose 

13 

III 

Mac lavish Shows His Hand 

26 

IV 

The Raid 

48 

V 

lnverlochy 

62 

VI 

The Retreat 

78 

VII 

The Plot 

89 

VIII 

Earning 

103 

IX 

The Flight from Auld Reekie 

124 

X 

Escape 

156 

XI 

The Encounter at the Inn 

169 

XII 

Auldearn 

197 

XIII 

Sannoch Again 

213 

XIV 

The Vengeance 

231 

XV 

The Secret of the Tower 

247 

XVI 

Kilsyth 

257 

XVII 

Philiphaugh 

275 

XVIII 

The Reckoning 

301 


Glossary 

322 


• • 
Vll 

















«««««■<■« 

FOREWORD 

«««««■<« 


Several years ago, I stood in an ancient Scottish 
Castle and held the sword of the great Montrose in 
my hands. That night, as I went to my chamber, 
I promised myself to write a story about him and 
the atmosphere of his time and place. 

If, as I hope, this book pleases those who like a 
straightforward, lusty tale, I am satisfied. If my 
readers feel that it is far too gory in parts, I would 
have them believe that I write of the country as it 
was and not as the writers of historical romance 
usually paint the picture. The cruel savagery is 
not overdrawn for the year 1647; in fact, these 
conditions survived in the Highlands for a full 
century longer. The social system of the Highlands 
was feudal and actually some four centuries behind 
its times. It did not change until the land was 
finally subjected to English rule in the pacification 
of the Clans after the "Forty-five.” 

If my dealing with the conditions affronts the 
sensibilities of some staunch Caledonian, and if I 
have dealt hardly with some of the ancient names, 
let me advise him that I have been as honest in my 


IX 




FOREWORD 

< << < <<< < - << ■ <<< «<« 

treatment of those clansmen of the name I bear on 
the distaff side; that he loves Scotia no more than I 
do. Being so unfortunate as to be born beyond her 
shore, I, nevertheless, had the advantage of her 
education and I have spent the happiest days of my 
life absorbing the traditions of the very glens of 
which I write. 

The name Sannoch is wholly fictitious, so far as 
I know; I once shot a stag in Glen Sannox far re¬ 
moved from the locale of my tale and liked its look 
and sound. So, also, are the characters, other than 
those of merely historic importance. 

I might be criticised for making Dougal speak in 
the broad Scottish of the Lowlands. To the student 
it will be obvious that a Highland servant of that 
day would speak only in Gaelic, yet, I hope I will 
be excused in the effort to add colour to my tale. 

The historical background is substantially correct 
to the smallest detail, in which I have leaned heavily 
upon John Buchan’s "Montrose,” the only reference 
book referred to. 

Paul Curtis 


x 



««« <<<<<<■<■ 


CHAPTER I 

' <«««««« 

The Coming of Ranald 

I sat before the blaze in the old hall toasting my 
benumbed shanks and idly watching the sparks flit 
up the chimneyplace. Ben, the great stag-hound, 
lay at my feet twitching restlessly in his sleep and 
the gaunt form of my henchman, Dougal, crouched 
upon a settle, cast ominous shadows upon the musty 
arras swaying on the walls, as he whetted the blade 
of a Lochaber axe and tested its edge with a horny 
thumb. 

Without, the wind shrieked with fury about the 
tower and rattled the casements set high in the 
sturdy walls, while the snow swirled in great gusts 
and found entrance beneath the door. That day 
we had hunted a wolf far to the north under the 
shadows of Schiehallion and come home sodden 
to our meagre supper of porrich and beer. 

"Sch-wit, sch-wit,” went Dougal’s stone with 
monotonous cadence, while I pondered dismally 
of all that had befallen me and mine in a few 
short months. And yet, as I look back upon it, 
my adventures really began that night during the 

1 




THE HIGHLANDER 

< < «««< « 

great storm of the winter of 1644, when I had 
just come twenty years of age. 

Matters had not gone well with the House of 
Sannoch. The avaricious and all-powerful Camp¬ 
bells of Argyll had steadily pushed westward onto 
our lands, so that we held but little which was 
rightly ours. We Sannochs were few in number 
and our powerful friends, the Stewarts of Atholl 
and the Stewarts of Appin were too far removed to 
render us much support against minor raids, al¬ 
though ready enough to call for our claymores 
when the Clans went out against the hated Argyll. 

While to the south in the Glen of Balquhidder, 
everything was at sixes and sevens—a mixture of 
accursed Macgregors, a few staunch Maclarens and 
a smattering of other minor septs, all without 
unity to give them strength, so that the Camp¬ 
bells, like locusts of Egypt, forged north as well 
as westward. 

Between raidings and the law courts, my father 
had suffered severely in his later years, so, having in 
my brother David a stalwart son to carry on in 
the field, he decided to send me to Edinburgh in 
my eighteenth year, where I studied musty law 
books in the chambers of Mr. Alexander Cameron, 
a friend who was the factor for our estates and 
those of many of the adjoining gentry. 

My father had died in the year of 1643, sore 

2 



THE COMING OF RANALD 
^« <<<■<■<<<<<< < <■ <• <- < <<■<<<■<■< <«« 

hurt with the loss of my beloved mother and 
David had come into his own—such as it was. I 
cannot say that Mr. Cameron had found in me a 
very likely pupil; like most Highland youths of the 
time, my teaching had been principally from the 
horn book at my mother’s knee, where I learned to 
read and tally accounts and a smattering of Latin 
and Greek which Father Shammus tried despairingly 
to din into my ears. I read the few books which we 
possessed and drank avidly of the war-like history 
of the past, both legendary and true, so that in 
the two years which I spent in "Auld Reekie” I 
had not progressed far, when I received the terse 
message from the North—"Your brother is dead! 
Come home!” which Dougal had sent to me. 

Good Mr. Cameron provided me with a stout 
pony and twenty pounds Scot and in three days I 
was back at Sannoch, to learn that my poor 
brother’s body had been found stark at the head 
of Glen Lyon with the corpse of his faithful gillie 
beside him. There was a great gash in the back of 
his head, as if he had been cleft from behind with 
a claymore and much blood about as witness to 
a staunch resistance when they were beset. His 
dirk, fowling piece and the contents of his sporran, 
together with an ancient Celtic brooch with which 
he fastened his tartan, were missing. 

Our faithful retainers had scoured the country - 

3 



THE HIGHLANDER 
^ ^ < « ■ <« < < « -««« «« 

side for miles around, but the body was already 
cold a day or more before the corbies wheeling 
overhead drew attention to it and the murderers 
were gone. To such a future I, little more than a 
boy, returned to be husbanded by old Dougal, who 
scarce let me out of the tower unless attended by 
nearby clansmen and himself. No wonder I gazed 
forlornly into the fire that terrible night and mused 
of the vengeance which it was mine to secure in 
honour of our house. 

I looked at my father’s great claymore sus¬ 
pended with his targe above the mantel, and 
breathed again a prayer that I might soon ac¬ 
quire the strength to wield it well and craftily. 

Ben lifted his head with a low growl as the 
muffled thud of hoofs smote our ears and rushed 
to the door with a mighty roar. 

"Hello within!” came a hail from without, fol¬ 
lowed by a thunderous beating upon the sturdy 
oak. Dougal looked at me questioningly, whilst 
the knocking continued. 

Stepping to the door, axe in hand, he bellowed 
in return to know who was there "to disturb a 
body on sic a nicht?” 

" ’Tis Ranald Mackenzie,” came the response, 
"and if you dinna’ let me in, my blood be on your 
inhospitable heads, for I shall surely perish of the 
cold.” 


4 



THE COMING OF RANALD 

- * - <<<<< < <<< <<< < <<<<<< < «<<<< <<K-< < <■«-<-< 

Dougal looked through the peep. 

"Hold the hound and stand by with your sword 
whilst I open,” he said. "I can see but one against 
the snow, yet more be hidden mayhap. There’s 
ane, a certain Captain Ranald Mackenzie, a kins¬ 
man of your mither, but he has been awa 5 to the 
lowlands for years. Mind now!” 

With which he shot back the iron bolts, lifted 
the bar and stood back, Lochaber readily poised, as 
the door swung open from the force of the wind 
and our unexpected visitor entered with a gust 
of snow. 

"God save us!” he said, with a railing laugh, as 
he unwound his great blue cloak and stamped the 
snow from his boots. "Your hospitality seems to 
be of a questionable variety, cousin.” 

"The times are bad for Sannoch,” replied Dougal, 
setting fast the door. "We take no more chances 
here!” 

"Well said!” answered our visitor. Striding 
towards the fire he flung his cape upon the settle 
and, putting his back to the blaze, turned to look 
searchingly at me, whilst I released the hound, no 
longer threatening. He was a tall, slender man of 
Highland type; alertness and vigilance were present 
in every self-assured gesture, yet withal, he looked 
not Scottish. The black hat trimmed with silver 
braid and edged with white feathers, cocked jaun- 

5 



THE HIGHLANDER 


< <•<-<-<-« < <•<■<■< < < < ««■ < 

tily over his left eye, bespoke of France. The 
enormous, silver-buttoned cuffs of his black coat 
showed through a finely made leather jerkin of 
the same colour, as were the great jack boots 
upon his legs. 

He bespoke the Continental officer, or so I 
rightly supposed, except for the butts of the ram’s 
horn pistols tucked into his broad red sash and the 
hilt of the finely chased broadsword at his baldric, 
which were obviously Edinburgh made. 

"You know me not, cousin,” he said, "but I 
am your kinsman by your mother’s eldest brother 
of Dingwall and have been adventuring in the 
Low Countries in the army of His Gracious Majesty, 
King Louis, since little more than your age, so the 
fault is scarcely yours. If I mistake not, this hench¬ 
man is a Mackenzie—a clansman of my house and 
should bear me out, for I fished with him on the 
Beauly when he was a gawky gillie and I but a tyke. 
Do you mind the salmon you gaffed for me, Dougal, 
that pulled you into the big pool?” 

"Aye,” laughed Dougal, "I ken you weel the 
noo’; and weel I recall the staggie we tried to 
gralloch that jumped up and scared us most to 
deeth!” 

"But come,” interrupted our visitor, still master 
of the situation, "this is but poor fare you serve 
at Sannoch, unless you can offer a warm posset and 

6 




THE COMING OF RANALD 
««« « «< « <■««« < «< < <-<-<■<-<<«<<<<< « <- < 

a bit of food to the famished traveller that comes 
about your business.” 

Abashed, Dougal hurried off to the buttery, 
whilst I stood first on one foot and then the other, 
staring at our distinguished guest, who, drawing 
a stool to the fire, sat warming his hands at the 
welcome glow. I can recall Ranald under many 
conditions in later days, for he was ordained to 
shape my whole career from that night on, but 
never one in which he appeared more the hard¬ 
bitten, commanding soldier of fortune than on that 
first night at Sannoch. 

Dougal soon returned with a meagre supper, my 
apologies for which Ranald waived aside and set to 
with a will. Meanwhile, an aroused gillie had 
stabled his nag and dumped his saddle bags on the 
floor. 

"And now,” said he, setting his steaming 
tankard on the board beside him and drawing a 
pipe from his bags, "a bowl of my rare Rapparee, 
whilst I tell you what brings me here. 

"The news came to me that Montrose had taken 
the field, so I boarded a Dutch lugger which landed 
me at Inverness, where to my disgust, I found that 
half the Highlands were coyly hanging back with a 
finger in their mouths, waiting to see which way 
the wind would veer. Huntly and his Gordons 
marched bravely about, promising much, but giving 

7 



THE HIGHLANDER 

^<« « ■< < < < <«« « 

nothing, and Kintail crouched in Ross waiting for 
the Frasers’ move, contented that his claymores 
were sufficient to protect Mackenzie interests, come 
what might, without gettirig embroiled with either 
side. Much chagrined he was, when after offering 
my sword to the Marquis, I went off home and 
recruited a dozen or two of our stout Ronan men 
to prove that some Mackenzies at least, would fight 
for a good cause with little to gain but hard knocks 
and glory. But that’s another tale. 

"I was with the Marquis at Tippermuir where he 
cut Elcho to pieces and also at Aberdeen. Lumber¬ 
ing Argyll caught up with us at Fyvie—of this 
you have not heard. Despite his force of three to 
one, for by now we were reduced to but a thou¬ 
sand men, we stopped him there and forced him to 
retire with heavy losses. Montrose is following him 
cautiously; Nathaniel Gordon has gone to plea 
again for Huntly’s aid, whilst Alasdair marched 
west to raise additional recruits among the Clan 
Donald. So, hearing of your brother’s murder and 
knowing your plight, I asked leave to come here 
to enlist your aid, meagre as it may be, in a cause 
which may save your situation and mend my 
fortune in the doing. 

"Tell me, cousin, are you a true Sannoch? Do 
you wish to play a man’s part, regain your own and 
avenge your brother? Or do you list to stay here 

8 




THE COMING OF RANALD 

and be wet-nursed by Dougal, whilst great things 
go on about you?” 

His aspersion nettled me and I replied hotly that 
I knew my duty, but that I knew not who had 
committed the crime, nor had I the strength to 
fight the whole of Argyll. Hence, needs must that 
I should bide my time. 

To which he smiled depreciatingly and rankled 
me the more. 

" ’Tis well enough for you to talk,” I blurted out, 
"who fight with an army of three thousand men or 
more, but what am I to do who could not count a 
full score of claymores as my own?” 

At that his expression changed. "Laddie,” he said, 
"I like you well. ’Twas but to test your spirit that 
I crossed you. Now, I know that you’re a man 
with whom Ranald Mackenzie can well afford to 
play. But, look you, cousin, this is not the time to 
sit by and wait, whatever. I have a better plan and 
it is that which I have ridden here to propose. 

"Montrose has swept all before him in the North; 
he is not the man to let Argyll rest. Scotland is not 
big enough for the twain. If he can defeat Elcho 
and Burleigh when outnumbered five to one, what 
think you he will do to Argyll, for all his Campbell 
men? Why, he’ll sweep their country from Ben 
Cruachan to the Kyles of Bute! 

"The Marquis thinks well of me; and I have his 

9 



THE HIGHLANDER 
< < «<■«■< <«« <«-<■< ■« <■<«■« «« <-<-< <<<<<««- 

complete confidence. With due regards for politi¬ 
cal necessity in dealing with the clan chiefs, he 
leans upon me heavily and God knows he has needs 
for trained officers, who know the art of war and 
not merely the leading of a cattle foray! 

"Come with me now; bring Dougal here and 
such men as you can and declare yourself for the 
cause—your own personal cause, made the stronger 
because it is the cause of Scotland; win or lose, it is 
your only path. If, in the end, Montrose should go 
down in defeat, you and all the petty lairds of here¬ 
abouts will be gobbled up by the Campbells, unless 
their power in the North is smashed first. The 
Atholl men have marched to meet him; the Stewarts 
of Appin, Clan Chattan, the Macdonalds and the 
Camerons are all with him. There lies your way 
to fame, vengeance and retribution. I come to you 
not as a recruiting sergeant, God knows, but for 
Scotland and your own!” 

His eyes lit with the fire of an avenging angel as 
he spoke and the tallow dip bounced as on the last 
ringing sentence he pounded the board. Yet, read¬ 
ing the enthusiasm which his stirring appeal had 
made upon my Celtic temperament, his expression 
changed and with an understanding smile, he held 
up his hand to stop me before I spake. 

"I see that you will,” he said, "I doubt you’ll 
change your mind; yet, now that I have lured you 

10 





THE COMING OF RANALD 
«<<<<<<<<<<<«< <<<< < <<<<<<<■ « <«<< «« < « 

like a coquettish wench, I am chary of the conse¬ 
quences. Sleep on it, laddie, and give me your 
word on the morrow.” 

Well he knew that he had caught his fish—to 
play me was but flattery to his complete assurance 
—yet, flattering to me also, that he looked upon 
me as a man of sober judgment. Long into the 
night we huddled about the birch fire crackling on 
the hearth, whilst the storm howled about the 
tower, and Ranald primed us with stories of 
Montrose’s first campaign and of his own ex¬ 
periences in the Lowlands and the army of Austria, 
where he had fought the Turks before the gates of 
Vienna. 

We of Sannoch had heard but dim murmurs of 
the stirring days to the east of us, though the 
gallant Montrose had ridden by within a day’s 
march of our sequestered glen on his way to Tipper- 
muir, where with but twenty-seven hundred horse 
and foot, he had so disastrously defeated seven 
thousand of the Covenanters that it was said one 
could walk to Perth on Elcho’s dead! 

We listened with bated breath, whilst he told us 
how with the speed of a hawk, the Marquis swung 
north to Aberdeen and swooped on Lord Burleigh. 
How Alasdair’s Irish Regulars coolly opened their 
ranks and let the Covenanter cavalry thunder 
through and turning, fired into their backs. How, 

11 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<« <<<< -^^<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < < <<< << <<< < <<<<< 

quickly reforming when the Marquis called for a 
general advance, they charged Burleigh’s centre 
with the Highland wings and drove the demoralised 
rabble into the gates of the city. 

As I climbed to my chamber, I thought not of 
the rapine that followed in that unhappy city 
(the only blot on Montrose’s escutcheon), but 
rather that a champion had come to deliver us from 
Campbell oppression. 


12 



< <• «« ■ < ■<««« 


CHAPTER II 

Montrose 

Awakened by a crash below, the unexpected 
promise of the night flashed across my eyes in a 
glittering panorama and I tumbled out to don my 
clothes. Hastily descending the narrow circular 
stairs, I encountered Dougal on a bench, a long 
bill-hook in his hands, busily engaged in fishing 
ancient bucklers and rusty breast-plates from off 
the walls. 

"You knew I’d go!” I said, with a note of pride. 

He turned quickly, "Aye, I knew. Dinna’ fash 
yeself, I have already sent for the men to come in.” 

"You, of course, will stay and mind the tower,” 
I replied, with as straight a face as I could muster. 

"Och!” he grinned. "Would you leave the hound 
at home when you hunt the wolf? What would ye 
be doing without the man that stood with his back 
to your father’s? Auld Angus will mind the place 
whatever, and though he canna’ stand the march¬ 
ing, a right guid mon he still would be with his 
foot planted in yon doorway. The point is, how 

13 




THE HIGHLANDER 

< <««<■< < < <<<<<< -< 

many can we spare? There are the women and 
bairns to think on, not to speak of the cattle and 
Sannoch. Bide a wee till the Captain comes down, 
we shall need him for a’ that.” And off he went to 
the buttery with a stand of pikes to be burnished. 

Ranald sauntered down betime, having roared 
for a kettle of hot water and someone to brush his 
broadcloth, as if he were in an Edinburgh inn. 
Having finished our breakfast, Dougal was invited 
to sit and discuss the plans for the momentous step 
we were taking. In all, we could muster three-and- 
twenty pikes and claymores, counting old Angus 
and several lads still too young for service, except 
in defense of the tower. Ranald was for taking the 
lot, saving the old men and the lads, arguing that 
they could hold the place and the women and chil¬ 
dren could come in on the first alarm. 

But Dougal stood stoutly up to him—captain 
or no—and declared it could not be. 'Tor,” said 
he, "you dinna’ ken our neighbours; the very fact 
that we had unduly weakened the Glen would be 
sufficient inducement for carrying off the last 
beast and a likely lass or two, before they burned 
every croft on Sannoch! No, there is Red Wallace 
and his brother, neither of them married and no 
better men with sword and buckler from here to 
Mull. There is the Maclean sept,” counting on his 
fingers, "they can muster three—one with a fire- 

14 




MONTROSE 
«« « ««« < < ■«<• << 

lock. There is tall Colin, the son of old Angus; 
yes, and his brother Davey and Rory Oig, he 
would give an arm to the cause to get aglee fra’ 
that forked-tongued scold of his. That makes 
eight. That and no more can be spared.” 

Ranald argued and hectored, but Dougal was 
adamant. Scotland he would fight for anytime— 
who wouldn’t? Particularly if it meant splitting a 
Campbell wizen and tousling one of their lassies, 
but Sannoch came first! 

To avoid a rupture at the very start, I had to 
step into the breach and side with Dougal. Ranald 
was obviously put out that a Highland henchman 
upon whom he looked down should take precedence 
over him in a matter of military judgment, despite 
his silver lace. But it was two to one and he finally 
accepted our decision with as good grace as he could 
bring to his assistance and stalked from the room. 

This breach gave me a clearer insight into my 
cousin’s proud Highland spirit, which, had I but 
taken to heart, would have saved us a cruel mis¬ 
understanding, of which I shall say more later. 
Alas for Scotland! That indomitable pride of place 
and stiff-necked sense of position and unbending 
will which has served her so well in many a crisis, 
has as oft been her undoing. 

The storm had ceased at daylight, so despite the 
fact that the hills were heavily blanketed in snow, 

15 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<< < < <<<< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<<<< <<<< « ■ < ■ < <<<< «« 

some of the tenants were already in from the nearer 
crofts when our council of war broke up. Prepara¬ 
tions for the expected entertainment were going 
forward. A sheep was spitted to roast on the open 
hearth and sundry pewter mugs and horns placed 
upon the board beside a cask of mountain spirits 
which they mixed with honey. As each newcomer 
arrived, he partook liberally of the powerful con¬ 
coction and soon the hall was in a turmoil. 

Finally, after much rough banter and some 
brawling, the sheep was declared done and each 
drawing his sgian dhu cut what he wanted. My 
cousin sat beside me at the head of the board with 
Dougal below him and a bowl of steaming punch 
before us. Eventually, upon a whispered admonish¬ 
ment from the latter to state the purpose of the 
gathering before matters had gone beyond their 
befuddled understanding, I arose to tell them why 
they had been called in. 

It was my first address since they had celebrated 
my leadership. Encouraged by a sympathetic smile 
from Ranald, who had recovered his temper, I 
launched forth in much the terms which he had 
used the night before, recounting our wrongs at 
the hands of the Campbells and the suspicion of 
my brother’s murderer. I then introduced Ranald, 
who told them of what went forward in the North. 

My cousin’s Gaelic was not of the best, for he 

16 



MONTROSE 

««< «««< «■<««<<« < <-<-<-<- < -< <<<<<< <■«■«■< 

had gone abroad over young and few of my clans¬ 
men spoke Lowland Scottish, let alone the less 
common English, but when he had done of our 
anticipated vengeance against the hereditary enemy, 
they were ready to cheer Beelzebub himself, had he 
entered the hall with a stench of brimstone on his 
tail. And the battle cry of Sannoch rang amongst 
the rafters, whilst old Angus seized his pipes and 
skirled a wild pibroch to the deeds of the Sannoch 
men. 

The short winter’s day drew to a close. Those 
who were still able, left for their homes, it having 
been agreed that all who were to follow me would 
cut across the hills to our rendezvous at Blair 
Atholl, where we hoped to intercept the van of 
Montrose on its way to Dundee; whilst Ranald and 
I, being mounted, would take a path down the 
Tummel on account of the heavy snow. Our easiest 
route would have been through Weem to the Tay 
Bridge, intercepting the army at Aberfeldy, but 
that entailed passing Castle Menzies where they 
were none too friendly to us. Knowing not which 
side of the fence they were on, Dougal cautioned 
against showing our hands until need be. 

So, on the morning as the rooks were flying to 
the fields, we mounted and turning our horses’ heads 
to the west, set forth. Dougal strode beside my 
stout Highland pony, his great axe over his shoulder, 

17 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< « < «« « ■< <<<<<<<<<< 

while the two poaching Wallaces brought up the 
rear with Rory Oig. 

The path was rough and difficult to follow. It 
skirted the edge of bogs and wound its tortuous 
way along noisy mountain burns where we had to 
dismount and lead our horses and, what with the 
snow, we made slow progress. That night we slept 
in a shepherd hut, or tried to, where twixt lice and 
the smoke of the wet peat fire, we were driven 
nearly mad. But nothing could dampen my boyish 
ardour. Few as they were, for the first time I was 
leading the men of Sannoch! 

The following day about noon we crossed the 
Tummel Bridge and learned that Argyll had passed 
south over the road to Dunkeld a week before. 
Turning north we headed for Blair Atholl, a few 
miles south of which we picked up the balance of 
our band, nor were we once.challenged on the way, 
so lax was discipline in the Highland army. Soon, 
we came abreast of the camp of Alasdair’s Irish 
and the Clan Ranald, where they had built rude 
brush huts upon the hillside, close to the town—a 
sure sign that they were not anticipating a quick 
move, for when on the march, the Highlanders slept 
in their plaids wherever they happened to be. 

The main street of the little town was over¬ 
crowded with the men of Atholl, Camerons, Mac¬ 
leans, Macleods, Stewarts of Appin, and the 

18 


un- 





MONTROSE 


kempt barbaric looking Ulster kernes of Colkitto’s 
levies, dirty, half clad in their rags, with mops of 
hair hanging from their bare heads, the wildest 
looking creatures I had ever seen. 

Ranald was instantly recognised and greeted from 
all sides and the Appin and Atholl men hailed us 
with a cheer as Colin marched bravely at our 
head, piping the "Sannoch Hills,” by which I was 
embarrassed in view of our pitiful number, yet had 
not the heart to stop him. After all, I was young 
and could not quite subdue that feeling of the con¬ 
quering hero as we passed by under the eyes of all. 
But, as we neared the manse, which was Montrose’s 
headquarters, I could have cut off my right hand 
for not having done so. Before the door stood a 
parcel of inconsequential bonnet lairds, amongst 
whom I recognised Ian Mactavish, the master of 
a peel tower to the west of us, who always sat 
below a Sannoch—and knew it well. Yet, catching 
my eye, he turned to his companions with a sneer¬ 
ing remark at our expense which brought forth a 
laugh, and turning disdainfully, disappeared in the 
crowd. 

My cheeks burned in mortification and glanc¬ 
ing furtively at Ranald, I met a smile which said 
plainly—"You have brought this on yourself, my 
lad!” 

"Did you hear?” I asked. 

19 



THE HIGHLANDER 

"I did,” he replied shortly, dismounting from his 
horse. 

"Well,” I demanded, getting hotter every mo¬ 
ment, "what was it?” 

His eyebrows lifted slowly at my imperious tone 
and his gaze held mine for a moment before he made 
answer. 

"He said, 'Now won’t Argyll quake in his boots 
—the Sannoch men are here!’ ” 

The mortification of it! Before I had set foot 
to ground! The clod-hopper! I flung myself from 
the saddle to follow him, but Ranald caught my 
arm. 

"Softly, my cock, softly. We have other fish to 
fry; if you would cut your teeth before we face 
Argyll, best try less hardy quarry than Mactavish!” 

"I can handle him!” I blurted, between morti¬ 
fication and rage. 

"I doubt it,” was the blunt rejoinder. "At least, 
so long as you carry a cleaver as cumbersome as 
the weapon at your side. Oh! I know it was good 
enough for your fathers, but the world moves on! 
If you wish to hold your own with such burly men 
as that in single encounter, first let me teach you 
to use a better weapon. Meanwhile, as a soldier you 
have more important duties to attend. Your men 
and horses must be quartered, after which we report 
and find shelter for ourselves.” 


20 



MONTROSE 

This was soon attended to and leaving me sitting 
on a bench in the inn to cool my spleen with a pot 
of ale, Ranald repaired to headquarters. Many 
came and went before my eyes, some few of whom 
I knew and by whose polite recognition my evil 
state of mind was quickly mollified. Amongst them 
was fine old Sir John Stewart of Appin, who greeted 
me with outstretched arms and drew me to him 
with the hug of a bear. 

"Laddie,” he cried,” ’tis proud I am to see your 
father’s son amongst us! ’Tis where he would 
have been, never fear—and would have you be.” 
Holding me off from him with a huge paw on each 
shoulder, he gazed at me. "And this is the wee bit 
laddie that loosed my young falcon and got whipped 
soundly for it—and now he’s the Laird of Sannoch. 
—Ah, well, time passes. Mind you must march 
with us, whatever. I’ll speak to the Marquis about 
it. ’Tis where yours have always been. We’ll meet 
again,” and with a nod, he hurried out. 

I was again uplifted by a kindly word. We were 
to march with the Appin men, which meant in the 
van and to the right of the line! And as he had 
said it so all in the room could hear, I somehow 
knew he had heard the slighting remarks of Mac- 
tavish. 

One hears much of the dour and inhospitable 
Scot by those who have never been north of the 

21 



THE HIGHLANDER 
^■*<< < < < - <**<<<<< <<<<*<<<<<<<<<< «< «««« 

Forth and Clyde and it should be remembered of 
those Lowlanders that their characters were moulded 
’twixt the upper and nether millstones of High¬ 
land and British oppression. One hears also of the 
effusiveness and generosity of the Latin, but if he 
would witness honest feeling, richly expressed, 
whether it be of affection or enmity, if he would 
know the joy of that kind of friendship which takes 
him in, gathering him to its bosom and says, "Take 
what you need” and means its all—then go to the 
Highlands. 

It is probably this Celtic lack of restraint and 
spontaneous expression of feeling which has been 
the strongest bond between us and the French, 
rather than as many would have us believe, purely 
a political one. 

The English can never understand this freedom 
of expression. It is too contrary to their nature and 
they are doubtful of its depth. But how true is 
any affection, except at the moment and how lasting 
can it be, unless, appreciating its worth, each party 
to it nurtures it as they would a fragile wild flower? 

Shortly a gillie came in and asked for me, stating 
that I was to follow him to headquarters. A huge 
Macfarland stood before the door, claymore in 
hand, but recognising my guide, stepped aside for 
me to enter. At a long table in the back of the low- 
ceilinged room sat a distinguished-looking man with 

22 



MONTROSE 

two secretaries busily writing beside him, whilst 
Ranald stood at one side, his French hat deferen¬ 
tially in hand and I knew that I was in the presence 
of the Marquis. 

At the time, Montrose was in his thirty-second 
year. Of middle stature and gracefully built, his 
form was well set off in his Highland garb, the 
dark green tartan of the Grahams; his chestnut 
hair was worn cavalier fashion; his fine grey eyes 
were sharp and searching; he had a high-bridged 
nose, a large thin-lipped, determined mouth, some¬ 
what effeminated by the too dainty moustache then 
in vogue and a clear ruddy complexion which de¬ 
noted health and vigor. 

As I entered, he rose to greet me, signifying to 
the secretaries that they could go on with their 
work and came around the table with outstretched 
hand. 

"Sir,” he said in a level voice, "I welcome you 
with all my heart.” 

I murmured my disappointment that I brought 
him so few, adding that at least they were well 
armed. 

"Captain Mackenzie tells me that you have but 
half a score behind you, but if every laird in the 
Highlands had set aside petty differences in the 
common cause and done as much, we would now 
be over the Border to help his Majesty. Meanwhile, 

23 




THE HIGHLANDER 

« K «• ««<« <«■«« «-«■«« <<<<« « «« 

more men are gathering from the West under the 
suasion of Alasdair Macdonald and we hear that 
Argyll has sent his cavalry into winter quarters, 
so we but await Alasdair’s return to push on after 
him to Dunkeld. He shall find that there are no 
winter quarters large enough to hold our Highland 
men! 

"The Captain tells me that you and your clans¬ 
men know the country intimately from the Lyon 
to Glen Docart. This may be far more valuable 
than a hundred claymores, but time alone will 
decide. Thank God, they are well armed, for we 
are hard pushed on that score. Half of my force 
at Tippermuir were armed with clubs and scythes 
at the beginning of the fray and for lack of ammu¬ 
nition, we had to bid them arm with stones, of 
which fortunately there were plenty in the line 
of advance,” and he smiled reminiscently. 

"You will dine with me,” he added, signifying 
that the introduction was at an end. "For the time 
I must ask you to excuse me; there is much cor¬ 
respondence requiring attention.” 

Such was my first sight of the great Montrose 
who was to free us of the Campbell menace before 
he paid the price on the block at Edinburgh. 

As we strode down the street Ranald who was 
well pleased with my reception laughed and pinched 
my arm. 


24 



MONTROSE 

<<<<< < < < < << < < << < <<<<<<< < 

''There is a leader for you!” he said with admira¬ 
tion. "As good as Adolphus at his best. He can 
fight! His strategy is perfect! He is politic and 
young and yet withal, he has that supreme virtue in 
a commander—he recognises facts. 'Could not find 
winter quarters large enough to hold our Highland 
men!’ Quotha! Well he knows that as soon as the 
fighting is over with its chance for pillage, all Hell 
would not hold them. They would be off to the 
hills over night—disappear like the snow and in the 
spring he would have it to do all over again. I 
doubt not that you will see that unusual thing—a 
thing impossible with heavily accoutred troops—a 
winter campaign, my cousin, and have your belly 
full of Campbell flesh before the heather blooms 

i 

again! 


25 




«■«<■<■< <-< < ««< 

CHAPTER III 


Mactavish Shows His Hand 

No sooner had we ensconsed ourselves in Blair 
than I perceived another side of Ranald. On the 
march he had been the model of a seasoned cam¬ 
paigner in the enemy’s country; riding his horse 
with an easy grace, he was constantly on the alert; 
each crag and bit of bracken was carefully scanned 
before we drew near and now and then he turned in 
the saddle to look back over the path. 

His hitherto reserved pleasantries slipped from 
him like a mask. Keeping his own counsel, he hardly 
ever spoke and when he did, it was more often to 
give a terse command. Under cover of a screen of 
firs he watched the approach to the Tummel 
Bridge for an hour before we ventured to cross and 
once headed north, he pushed over the road to the 
limit of the men’s endurance. 

I could not but admire his soldierly bearing the 
more and as we went about the town, I noticed 
with pride his popularity with the men and the 

26 




MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
< < < < « « < < 

respect with which his equals greeted him every¬ 
where. 

To have him therefore quickly change for the 
worse under the idling influences of a soldier in 
camp was a great disappointment. Despite his fine 
feathers and grand Continental air which I had so 
much admired at Sannoch, I was soon to see the 
coarser side of the typical soldier of fortune who 
lived by his wits as well as his courage. He lolled 
about the tavern drinking and dicing with the 
wilder of the officers who were looked upon askance 
by our Highland gentry. True, he did it with a 
superior air which his companions swallowed, but it 
shamed me to see him in such company. Often the 
stakes were high and frequently he did not come in 
till the night was well gone, but no matter how 
drunken and riotous his companions might become, 
he never seemed to show it. 

Once as I returned unexpectedly to our quarters, 
a slattern serving-wench rolled off his pallet with a 
screech of alarm and ran tittering down the passage. 
Too ashamed to look at him I turned on my heel, 
followed by the raucous laughter of the no-ways 
abashed Ranald. 

Eventually, after losing heavily, he asked me for 
a loan which I perforce made him. God knows I 
am not niggardly and would willingly have given 
him all I had in a better cause, but our Highland 

27 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<* «««« ««« «« «« « ■« « «« <<<<<<<-<< 

pounds were few and it galled me, knowing that it 
too would go across the table wastefully and might 
be sorely needed for my men. 

Sensing my attitude, he accepted it with a con¬ 
descending hauteur and for a day or two I saw little 
of him, but I was certain that he had lost again for 
he moped about until he summoned the courage 
to come with a hang-dog look and importune me, 
promising payment anon. 

Counting the contents of my sporran, I gave him 
three pounds sterling which was a deal to us and 
left but an odd ten to see us through the winter, 
telling him that it must be the last for the purpose 
to which I knew it would go. 

His eyes flashed and for a moment I thought that 
he would refuse the money and come to an open 
breach with me, but he pocketed it and his pride 
and flung himself from the room without a word. 

All day I worried over the situation I had created. 
That Ranald had become seriously fond of me I 
felt reasonably sure and certainly he had shown me 
a way out of my evil situation. That in face of 
this I should place myself in the unenviable position 
of appearing niggardly was insufferable. So having 
supped with Dougal, I took myself to the tavern 
where I was sure to find him, in the hopes of sharing 
a bottle and making amends. 

The place was thick with smoke and making 

28 




MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
^«<< <<<<<< << ■ < <<< << < ■ <«««« « <«« ■ « . < ■ < ■ < 

my way to the table around which a crowd was 
gathered, I wormed myself unseen to a place behind 
Ranald’s chair. Across the board sat Mactavish, 
his face flushed with wine and success and between 
the two were several players of his ilk. I sensed the 
play was high from the hushed interest of the on¬ 
lookers and the pile of coins beside Mactavish 
showed his luck was in with a vengeance. One by 
one, the other players withdrew from the game, 
leaving Ranald to oppose him. 

Three casts he made and lost. There were but 
five crowns beside his cup when Mactavish took the 
dice and rolled three sixes and his hand stretched 
greedily to take the stakes. 

"Your last cast, I take it,” said Mactavish, with 
a leering look of triumph. 

Ranald made to rise, when with my hand upon 
his shoulder, I pressed him to his seat, at the same 
time passing him my all—the ten pounds in gold. 
He looked up in surprise and his face lit with an 
understanding smile as his eyes met mine. Some¬ 
thing passed between us which meant much—the 
knowledge that, come what may, we two would 
stick together like lichens on a rock. 

Mactavish scowled. "Hoot!” he cried. "The 
laird of Sannoch is amongst us. Will you no have 
a cast?” 

"I do not play,” I answered coolly. 

29 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<*<<<<<<<■<■<<<<■<<< < < < ■<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<< 

"He does not play!” he mimicked. "Perhaps 
it’s the company you do not care for?” as if to 
challenge me. 

"Have done your chatter!” interposed Ranald 
tersely. "One cast for the lot against yours, 
Mactavish!” 

I believe that Mactavish would have refrained, 
being satisfied with his victory, if it were not for 
the chance of taking me too. The stake was a huge 
one for the Highlands and all present stood with 
abated breath. Coolly Ranald reached for the 
dice and my heart sank as he rolled a total of but 
thirteen. Already I saw our little fortune swept 
into the sporran of the hated Mactavish. 

Laughing, he seized the cup and with a flourish 
cast. A dice spun across the table and rattled to 
the floor, the other two lay plain to be seen—a five 
and a four. 

"Mind it!” cried Mactavish. "What’s the 
count?” 

"No matter,” answered Ranald. "You will roll 
upon the table.” With an oath, Mactavish took the 
dice and cast again for a twelve and Ranald swept 
up the stakes between them. 

"You will roll again for the same?” said Mac¬ 
tavish, now thoroughly aroused. 

"No!” 

"Double or quit?” he leered, leaning nearer. 

30 




MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
« « ■ «« « « < «■ <«« 

"No,” answered Ranald. "I play no more with 
you now, or at any time.” 

"So,” sneered Mactavish, "that’s how the wind 
blows. You can play if Sannoch bids you, but you 
canna’ if he says no!” 

"Listen, Mactavish,” came the calm retort, and 
knowing Ranald, I marvelled that he could so con¬ 
tain himself, "don’t cross me. If you would pick 
quarrels stick to your kind.” 

"What!” roared Mactavish, whipping himself 
into a fury. "Do you think I’m afeared of you or 
any other Mackenzie from Cromartie to Kintail?” 
And he stood over Ranald, who coolly got to his 
feet. 

"Yes,” he said. "I think perhaps you are. But 
I don’t have to fight you. Those here know my 
reputation. No one can call me coward to refuse 
to carve my crest upon your hide when there is 
better use for our swords—even yours.” 

"Come,” he said, addressing me, "let us go.” 
And turning on his heel he left the inn with me, 
followed by a derisive laugh with which Mactavish 
sought to cover the fact that his power of decision 
was not equal to the occasion. 

We shared a garret, the best which the town 
could afford late-comers. A couple of rickety stools 
and a lanthorn comprised its furnishings. We slept 
upon a rude straw pallet, over which we spread 

31 



THE HIGHLANDER 
< < «« < ■«<«<< < -« «« «■ « <<<<< < <<<<< ««« 

our plaids. It was draughty and damp, for there 
was no place for a fire and the rats scuttled about 
in the dark, but Ranald, the seasoned campaigner, 
recked not of simple hardships, whilst I was abroad 
from dawn to dusk absorbing the simple drill in 
which the Highland Foot was instructed. 

This consisted of little but charging in close 
formation, three deep, at imaginary foes, wheeling 
quickly to change front and out-manoeuvre the 
enemy or protect the flank and the new method of 
opening the ranks to let the opposing cavalry 
through without shock, firing into their rear and 
quickly reforming. 

The Highland army had need for little else; it 
had no artillery and few firearms except pistols 
which they fired at close quarters, then threw them 
at their enemies’ heads and pushed the charge home 
with claymores. Their strength was in their mo¬ 
bility, speed, and the force with which they drove 
their wild charges into the enemies’ ranks. There 
was nothing more terrible to confront—even 
cavalry was powerless against it. The finest in¬ 
fantry in the world has cracked when a horde of 
screaming, half-naked Highlanders bore down on 
them like a thunderbolt, claymores flashing, roaring 
their battle cries and sweeping aside bayonets which 
they caught upon their targes like so much chaff. 

True to his promise, Ranald had taken seriously 

32 




MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 

my instruction with the sword, substituting a 
lighter blade for my ponderous broadsword; he 
made me discard the targe and taught me to ex¬ 
tend my guard in prolongation of the forearm, 
thereby using the far more deadly point, almost to 
the exclusion of the edge. This was quite contrary 
to Highland practise, in which the targe worn 
upon the left arm was an important source of de¬ 
fense. 

I was quick on my feet and had been well 
schooled by Dougal in the traditional method of 
sword and buckler fighting, as it is commonly 
called, in which foot-work counts for so much. But 
when at sword play with Ranald, I soon realised the 
superiority of his Italianated style for individual 
combat, no matter how effective our method was 
in the melee. Strive as I might, it was impossible to 
reach him over that elusive point which was ever 
before my eyes. 

Standing easily erect, a maddeningly derisive 
smile upon his face, he would taunt and goad me 
on to renewed efforts long after I was ready to 
drop from circling and slashing at the solid wall 
presented by his point. 

The morning after our altercation with Mac- 
tavish, as we rested from our efforts in the back of 
a stable where we were wont to practise because 
of the smoothness of the ground, he asked me sud- 

33 



THE HIGHLANDER 
^ ■ < - ««««««« - <<« << « <<< <<<<<< <<<< << ^<^ 

denly what cause I had to incur the enmity of the 
man. 

I answered, none; that it could be but petty 
jealousy. 

Ranald shook his head—"There’s more behind it 
than that. Why should he feel the superiority of 
the Sannoch’s of which you prate? He has thrice 
your claymores and friends as powerful.” 

"Well,” I answered, "all I can say is that ’tis a 
mutual feeling; every time I set eyes upon him, the 
gorge rises in me. I loathe his sneering air of 
superiority.” 

"We all make mistakes, laddie,” replied Ranald. 
"Nay, I seek not to open the sore of your mortifica¬ 
tion,” laying a restraining hand upon my knee. 
"Admitting that you did cock your bonnet over 
much at our coming—and God knows that I like 
you the better for it—but be on your guard. Word 
has come to my ear of several threats the man has 
loudly made when in his cups; he means mischief. 
Today as we fenced I saw a face spying on us from 
yonder loft; ’twas in the shadow and yet, I would 
swear it was one of his henchmen. Twice of late 
returning from my carousals, I have seen a figure 
skulking near our lodging. In the daytime you 
are safe, but at night stir not abroad unless ac¬ 
companied by Dougal or me.” 

"I shall seek him out and demand an explana- 

34 




MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 


tion,” I declared hotly. "Why let the thing go on? 
Let’s drive him into the open!” 

"Exactly,” sneered Ranald, "and be laughed at 
for your pains! What have you got to go on? What 
tangible thing? Expose your hand without know¬ 
ing his cards—God knows you need a guide! I’ll 
not have it, you understand. For what do you think 
I am training you? Bide your time. When I am 
through with you, you can call him out and slit his 
gullet any day you list, but till I give the word, 
and that day is not yet, you have much to learn. 
Be crafty, and we may discover much. Actually 
I do not fear his mischief whilst we are here. If 
he touched you after last night, the finger of sus¬ 
picion would point directly at him, but when we 
march—beware! Meanwhile I’ll make a pact 
with you—fence hard, learn your sword and bide 
your time and I in turn will promise to mend my 
ways—at least till the campaign is over!” 

" ’Tis a bargain!” I cried joyfully. "And there’s 
my hand upon it!” 

So we made our pact against Mactavish and in 
acknowledging a mutual enemy, drew closer to¬ 
gether. 

At long last, the awaited Alasdair arrived from 
out of the mist of the Western Isles. We heard the 
shrill skirling of his pipes afar off and went to meet 
him. Alasdair had done his work well. Five hun- 

35 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< « «« <-« « « 

dred oppressed Macdonalds of Glengarry, Clan- 
ranald, Keppoch and the Isles had rallied to his 
standard on the promise of a final accounting with 
the Campbells. There were also Macleans from 
distant Mull, Farquharsons from Braemar, more 
Stewarts from Appin, and the Camerons of Loch- 
aber burning for revenge. 

That night a feast was held in honour of the 
newcomers to which all the chiefs and smaller 
lairds of the existing army were invited. Each in 
his bravest array, cairngorms, polished silver and 
steel flashed and scintillated against the varied 
tartans of the gathered host—the rich green and 
purple of the Grahams, the vivid red and yellow 
of the Macdonalds and the red and blue of the 
Stewarts. John of Moidart was there; the Captain 
of Clanranald, Donald Glass of Keppoch, young 
and gallant Aeneas of Glengarry, Magnus O’Cahan 
who led the wild Irish at Fyvie, and Nathaniel 
Gordon. Splendid old Lord Airlie came in on the 
arm of Ogilvy, who was followed by his sons, Sir 
Thomas and Sir David of that name. 

Never have I seen our leader, the gallant Mon¬ 
trose, more fascinating than he was that night—a 
glittering figure in his full Highland regalia. Re¬ 
leased from his usual reserve, he toasted one and 
all of the newcomers, not forgetting the least 
amongst them and then turning to Alasdair, he 

36 




MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
^««<. « «<<<<<^<<<<<<<««<« « ««<« « 

publicly thanked him in such glowing terms of 
compliment to his past services and confidence in 
the future that he brought the company cheering 
to their feet. 

In response Alasdair arose and silence reigned 
expectantly. A great rugged man was he, typical of 
his own granite crags. Given to much drunkenness 
and wild living, he was as at home in a staff council 
as a bull in a cupboard, but give him a charge to 
lead and he could be counted upon to accomplish 
what to others would be impossible. In no sense a 
strategist, he knew only to drive straight home, get 
to close quarters and have it done in the shortest 
possible time and no man in the Highland army 
was followed more willingly. At his bidding the 
veriest craven would hammer his way through the 
gates of Hell. 

"My lord and gentlemen,” he said, "I cannot 
thank you; my words are in my strong right arm 
and those of the men that follow me; I can give 
you no eloquence, but I will give you deeds. Yet 
I would advise, although my advice is more oft 
laughed at, ’tis this— Here is no time to sit in idle 
chatter. Now that we have the force to meet him, 
we learn that Argyll has sent his horse to winter 
quarters and taken himself by post to Edinburgh, 
resigning his commission to the Covenant. Well, 
’tis no’ their loss, I ken. But we cannot sit and 

37 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< <<<<<<<<<<<< ««« 

wait until they find someone more worthy of our 
steel. I speak frankly, milord, these gentlemen who 
have willingly adventured with me here in the 
King’s quarrel look for help from the King’s Lieu¬ 
tenant in their own. Nor could their force be held 
intact throughout a long winter without a chance 
of fighting and booty; it never has been done, and 
we all know that it cannot now. Let us seek Argyll 
in his lair and smoke him from it whilst we have the 
time!” 

Again they were on their feet cheering until the 
rafters rang, whilst the King’s Lieutenant smiled 
grimly as he looked with satisfaction upon the 
eager faces of the now thoroughly aroused warriors 
about him. 

Ranald leaned to me. "Said I not so?” he whis¬ 
pered. "We will march soon—God help us. I will 
warrant Alasdair was primed to wave that banner 
before their eyes!” 

Again, the room was hushed as Montrose replied 
and his voice rang sharp as a clarion. 

"My lords and gentlemen, you have voiced your 
wish; you howl like the wolf pack for Campbell 
flesh. Well, you shall have it. Never before have 
the Western Highlands been so united in a common 
cause. Justice is long overdue you and I promise 
you that the interest shall be paid in full. The Clan 
Campbell ceases to exist as a great power; we shall 

38 



MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
< < ■ < ■ « < < < < ■ < ■ < •< « « <■ < ■< ««■<■ <■«« < < < ■«■«■ « 

carry the sword and the torch through Argyllshire 
from north to south! 

"Meanwhile, I commend you to your beds. The 
army council will accompany me to my quarters 
to discuss the ways and means—the army marches 
at dawn!” 

Such was the King’s Lieutenant in Scotland, the 
Marquis of Montrose. To make a decision was to 
act, an expedience to which the lightly equipped 
Highland army, living virtually off the country, 
was admirably suited. 

Searching out Dougal to give him the news, I 
returned to our garret and was hardly asleep before 
I was rudely awakened by him, bidding me dress 
hastily as I was urgently wanted at Headquarters. 
Amazed at such a summons, I made all haste to don 
my kilt while Dougal, like a mother, painstakingly 
picked straw from off my jacket. 

There were a dozen or more in the room when I 
entered. Lord Airlie snored on a bench in a corner, 
while Keppoch and Gordon argued a point before 
a huddle of drowsy listeners. I knew not the time 
of night, but they had evidently been long in 
session and I sensed from the isolated factions 
arguing on different points, that it was near the 
close. As I entered the room, the Marquis motioned 
me to come to him and the buzz ceased. 

"You have been commended to me for an im- 

39 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< < <; <r<« <« < «< <<< << <<<<<<<<<<<< 

portant service, Laird of Sannoch. I tell you 
frankly that older men have been suggested,” 
glancing at Macgregor, who stood scowling beside 
him, "but you are favoured by certain staunch 
friends upon my staff. The situation is this. The 
Lowland road is impossible, for it exposes our flank 
to any force which the Covenant can hastily bring 
against us. The easy way is through your friendly 
country, due west to Rannoch and through the 
Pass of Brander, but if the Campbells get wind of 
our advance before we win through, a handful 
could hold it against all we could bring to bear. 
Mid-way through Breadalbane seems the only way. 
Captain Mackenzie tells us that your Sannoch men 
know every rock and heather bush in its wild glens 
and that you yourself have hunted over much of it 
since a boy. In this, he is backed by Sir John 
Stewart who says that his Appin men, who lead the 
van, will be well satisfied to follow you. What say 
you? I put the responsibility straight to you. 
Think you that you are equal to it?” 

"My lord,” I replied, "I speak not for myself, 
but rather for the men I lead. Among them are 
some that have been on many a raid into Campbell 
country with my father before I was out of swad¬ 
dling clothes. I opine that no man knows the way 
which you would take, or could lead through it 
more quickly than Rory Oig and Angus MacAlain 
Dubh, who though old, is still stout of both heart 

40 



MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
^ <<< < << -<<<<<<<-<-<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<■<<■<■< 

and limb. Him we can pick up at Sannoch on the 
way. What value I personally may have lies in the 
fact that they will expect to be led by one of my 
name, but before you decide or ask me to accept 
this post of honour and the responsibility to the 
cause, I should know who the other aspirant is, so 
that I may honestly say if in my heart I feel that 
he can offer more.” 

"Well!” exclaimed Sir John, "what say you, mi¬ 
lord? Is it not a fair request?” 

Montrose pondered for a moment. "Aye, the 
lad rings true to me. The other candidate is Ian 
Mactavish.” 

"Then, milord,” I answered readily, "I crave you 
give me this post and I promise you that your van 
will be through the pass before the enemy is aware, 
for I am certain that we know a path unknown to 
Mactavish or any of his. To our sorrow, we of 
Sannoch have found our neighbour loath to ad¬ 
venture into the Campbell country with us beyond 
the march of Breadalbane.” 

"So be it!” said the Marquis, waving aside a 
whispered remonstrance from Macgregor. "You 
will attach yourself to the force of Sir John Stew¬ 
art who is your supporter in this and be prepared 
to take the road by daylight.” 

Thanking him for his confidence, I saluted and 
withdrew as the Council was breaking up. 

So on the morrow, the eleventh of December, 

41 



THE HIGHLANDER 

«■<■< ««««< 

the Highland force three thousand strong, moved 
out of Blair and facing west, started on that ter¬ 
rible march which will be remembered as long as 
military history is discussed by man. The force 
was divided into three columns. John of Moidart, 
the Captain of Clanranald, led the men of the West 
—Camerons, Macleans, Stewarts and Macdonalds, 
with the men of Appin under Sir John in front. 
Alasdair led the Ulster men, divided into three regi¬ 
ments under Magnus O’Cahan, Ranald Og Mac¬ 
donald and James of the same name. Whilst Mon¬ 
trose led personally the third column consisting of 
the few Gordons who were with us, the Atholl 
men and the Lowland Contingent, including most 
of our horse under Ogilvy. 

Immediately the council of war had broken up, 
Ranald had been dispatched with a troop of horse 
along the road to Dunkeld to prevent any mes¬ 
sengers being sent to southward to inform the 
Covenant of our direction, having been instructed 
to hold the Tay Bridge at Aberfeldy and stop all 
traffic until we arrived. 

Passing through Aberfeldy to Weem, we seized 
the laird, which was no loss to Sannoch, and put 
the fear of the Lord in the hearts of the Menzies 
who were astraddle the stream, not knowing which 
way to jump and proceeded up Glen Lyon. 

The premature snows, harbingers of worse to 

42 



MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
««« «««< < <<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

come, had disappeared from all but the high tops. 
A piercing wind blowing from out of the north 
but added zest to our adventure and the weather, 
as predicted by a soothsayer, remained brisk and 
clear. We slept three together in the heather be¬ 
side mountain burns, the better to augment the 
warmth of our plaids, for the nights were sharp 
with frost and in the morning arose to find the 
distant mountains shining forth like jewels, un¬ 
encumbered by the usual mists of the Highlands. 

It was not, in fact, the weather which we feared 
would impede our progress, but rather the low wet 
lands. Incessant rains had reduced the bogs to 
morasses; the streams were in spate and the short 
winter days but nine hours long. Some places were 
well-nigh impassable to any but the lightly equipped 
Highland army. We had no artillery; our mounted 
contingent under Ogilvy was less than a hundred 
strong and our baggage meagre, for we lived like 
a horde of locusts off the country leaving desola¬ 
tion in our train. 

Even so, the suffering of the women and children 
following the Ulster men—always encumbered by 
a rabble of camp followers—was pitiful to see. In 
the tail of the army they were strewn out for 
miles. Poor, bedraggled wretches, barely human 
in appearance, who like faithful dogs had followed 
their men from Ireland and accompanied them over 

43 



THE HIGHLANDER 

««■«■< <■««■« «« ««« « < 

the Highlands from Alasdair’s landing south of 
Kintail through the first campaign of Tippemuir, 
Aberdeen and Fyvie and were to go down beneath 
the Covenant swords in the welter of blood after 
Philiphaugh. There was no place for the weak; 
those who could, staggered on, the derelicts to fall 
by the wayside in the wake of our indomitable 
march, their only requiem from the ravens which 
wheeled and croaked overhead like the promise of 
doom. 

As compared with the rest of the Western High¬ 
lands, Argyllshire was a land of milk and honey. 
The cattle were fat and plenty; the broad straths 
grew luxuriant crops; religious intolerance was al¬ 
most unknown; it had direct commerce by its own 
ships with the ports of the Continent and every 
hamlet had its school teacher. As a clan, the 
Campbells stood alone, second only in strength to 
the Gordons and the isolated Mackenzies. They 
could put more claymores in the field than any 
other clan and for centuries they had the knack 
of winning by the sword and holding by writ that 
which they took from their oppressed neighbours. 
Furthermore, they felt with reason safe from the 
retaliation of their unorganized victims, always at 
peace with the Lowlands they had nothing to fear 
from the south. Mull was too weak to be a menace 
from the west; north and east they held sway over 

44 



MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 
<«<<<< <<<<<< << <<<<< <- <-<-<< <<<-<■- < -< <<<<<<<<<■<■< 

the lands of Breadalbane to the head of Loch Tay. 
Little wonder they felt safe in their splendid isola¬ 
tion. But the day of reckoning was, all unbe¬ 
knownst to them, at hand. 

Skirting the wet lowlands bordering Loch Tay, 
we swept on into the wild hills above Glen Docart; 
Rory Oig had been sent on to the tower with a 
message, bidding the balance of the men under old 
Angus join me now that all danger was in front. 

It was after attending a last council at Glen 
Lyon House, that I encountered Mactavish. See¬ 
ing Ranald and me approaching, he drew rein and 
sat his horse, awaiting us with a handful of his men 
behind him. 

"And a little child shall lead them!” he said, with 
an evil sneer upon his countenance. 

All my pent up feeling burst restraint at this 
fresh insult. "Curse you, Mactavish,” I cried. "HI 
take no more from you!” 

"He’ll take no more of it,” he scoffed. "And 
what will he do? ” 

"Settle it now,” I said, half drawing, when Ran¬ 
ald seized my arm. 

"No!” he said. "You’ll not!” 

"And for why, Mister Busybody?” sneered Mac¬ 
tavish, looking at Ranald. "It’s little to see where 
his courage comes from when he has his wet-nurse 
ever present to prevent his getting hurt. He does 

45 



THE HIGHLANDER 

not like my words and I will not change them, so 
if he would fight, it’s up to him. There’s plenty of 
room and the light is fair!” 

To my own credit I say that at the moment I 
would have fought him had he been twice the 
man he was, but Ranald still restrained me. 

"Look you, Mactavish,” he said and his words 
came slowly and like ice. "If the lad does not kill 
you when the campaign is done, I surely will. I 
promise you that, if I have to follow you to John 
o’ Groats to do it. But you will bide our time. He 
cannot in honour fight you now, and well you know 
it, because he has been picked for work which 
you, Mactavish, and your rabble, were not fit.” 

That struck home and if ever looks could kill, 
Ranald had been a dead man then. 

"Aye,” he added, following it up, "well you 
know if you and your rag-tags ever dared to see 
as deep into Campbell country as Sannoch’s have 
—to their honour—you would lead the van. We’ll 
meet, never fear, but we will do Montrose’s work 
first—and you were a traitor to suggest aught 
else!” 

The score of men of Sannoch took the lead. 
Straight through the centre of Breadalbane we 
forged, along the old raiding road which in more 
powerful days, my fathers had taken into the lands 
of the Campbells, who flattered themselves that 

4 6 



MACTAVISH SHOWS HIS HAND 


< <<<<<<<< ■ < << < <<<<< < ■ < - < 

no one knew the way and if so, were too few to 
dare its wild corries and dark and fearsome glens. 
But they had forgotten the few indomitable spirits 
which still clung to the crofts and pastures around 
that ancient tower which had been our strength. 

One evening as we stopped on the brae of Glen 
Docart beside a tiny mountain tarn, I lay in the 
heather whilst my men prepared our meal of cold 
venison and watered oatmeal, with a portion of 
spirits to help it down. Peace reigned over the land¬ 
scape; the dun of the withered heather blending 
into the lush green of the bogs like the design of 
a tapestry, whilst the distant peaks glint with the 
roseate hue of the setting sun. Languidly I stretched 
my weary limbs, when suddenly a shot shattered the 
quiet and a slug flattened on a granite boulder beside 
my head. 

A man with a firelock dashed from his conceal¬ 
ment in the bracken above us with the speed of a 
deer and Dougal and Angus took after him with 
maledictions as to his fate. Long after dark they 
came in crestfallen with failure, having lost their 
quarry in the gathering dusk. Dougal was con¬ 
fident that the would-be murderer was not a 
Campbell man. Again we felt the sinister shadow 
of an evil hovering to swoop. 


47 



««-«■««<« 


CHAPTER IV 
<-<-<«■«««« 

The Raid 

In our wake swept the relentless force of the 
Western men under the fierce Moidart. Quickly we 
pounced upon the lonely out-lying crofts and 
gobbled them up before they had a suspicion of 
our coming. Not a fire was lighted as we lay shiver¬ 
ing in our plaids at night. Soon we were deep in 
Argyllshire, beyond the ken of my Sannochs. At 
dawn one morning we gazed down from a high 
place upon Crianlarich, still peacefully slumber¬ 
ing in the valley. Out of the morning mist we 
surged down the slopes in a wide arc. Suddenly a 
shepherd dog barked. Someone shouted from the 
town and with a rush and a wild Highland yell, 
we were in the streets. Women ran screaming; 
men cursed and cattle bawled with terror from the 
byres. 

Dougal was by my side when a red-headed virago 
screeching curses from an open window hurled a 
heavy pot. The missile struck my shoulder with 
a sickening thud and felled me like an ox and be- 

48 




THE RAID 

fore I could stop him a Maclean threw up his snap- 
haunce and fired. She fell across the sill, her arms 
and red hair dangling in the morning breeze, whilst 
a scarlet trickle ran down the face of the wall and 
spattered in the kennels. 

Meanwhile, Dougal swung his great axe upon the 
door and a dozen men piled in after him. It was 
all over in a few minutes. Fires were burning in 
many parts of the town—before the village kirk 
a knot of cowering men and sobbing women 
huddled. 

A girl ran down an alley in silent, wide-eyed 
terror, her breasts protruding through a torn shift, 
whilst two laughing Highlanders took after her. 

Argyllshire had its first taste of its own medi¬ 
cine! 

But we had little time for pillage or rapine; ours 
was a dual purpose—to act as a screen so that the 
Campbells would be unable to tell whether it were 
but a Highland raid or no and to gather cattle for 
the sustenance of the following army. 

So we left Crianlarich smouldering behind us 
and its terror-stricken inhabitants trying to save 
some pitiful remnant from the wreck. Driving 
their cattle ahead, we raced on taking Tyndrum in 
our stride and not regaining the main army until 
we reached Kilmartin-Glassary, deep in the enemy’s 
country. 


49 




THE HIGHLANDER 

< ««« «««« 

We brought in thousands of sheep and cattle. 
No longer did we shiver fireless in the heather. 
Concealment was now useless; every gillie had but 
to light a Campbell rooftree to warm his shanks 
and for once in that campaign their bellies were 
full of good food and spirits. 

I saw some fearsome sights, yet, in the main, I 
believe not the Campbell tale of our butchery. 
Few of the simple hillfolk were molested unless 
they attempted resistance and in the outlying coun¬ 
try they were too terrified to offer much. 

Skirting Glen Orchy where the eagles wheeled 
and screamed in surprise at the sudden invasion of 
their fastness, we looked down in a drizzling rain 
upon the waters of Loch Awe and the fighting 
began in earnest. As a heavy cloud twixt the sun 
and the heather rolled its shadow rapidly across the 
mountain side, we pushed on. Smoke rising from 
villages and towers of the bonnet lairds were but 
milestones upon our way. When we met with 
strenuous resistance all of the defenders were put 
to the sword. Not a roof was left intact—from 
the poorest shepherd’s cote to the fortresses upon 
the loch. All northern Argyllshire was a huge 
torch—mute testimony to Highland warfare of 
the kind the Campbells had served to their neigh¬ 
bours. 

Yet, so little news escaped in our van that lower 

50 



THE RAID 

< ■ < <<<<<< <<<<<<<<< < <<< < < 

Argyll was not unduly alarmed. The Duke posted 
across Scotland to put his castle of Inverary in 
order for a siege, but the burghers of the town were 
not aroused, news of raiding in Breadalbane and 
Lorn was nothing new to them. 

"Montrose was at Loch Awe! Nonsense! How 
could he be! No man could force the passes in the 
winter and if he were fool enough to try and did 
accomplish it, how would he again escape?” 

All too late they rued their overweening con¬ 
fidence. We struck Inverary from three sides in 
the night. Some terror-stricken crofters had 
reached the town with the news that the Marquis 
was indeed at hand with fire and sword. The tocsin 
rang; beacons were lighted on the surrounding hills 
to draw the outlying Campbells in, but it was all 
too late. The town was not prepared to resist a 
strenuous attack by such a force as we brought to 
bear. 

The sound of Alasdair’s pipes coming over the 
hills with a ruddy glare behind them in Glen Shira, 
foretold their fate. 

The castle was no protection to the town in such 
a case. The crafty Earl escaped from it, going 
down Loch Fyne in a fisherman’s boat, as burst¬ 
ing through the barricades we rushed into the town 
—and Hell broke loose. Campbells with their backs 
to the walls fought grimly in the narrow streets 

51 



THE HIGHLANDER 

««■« < <«« « < 

until pulled down by bill or cleft by claymore. 
Gillies ran about, torch in hand, setting thatch 
after thatch alight. Men were dragged from attics 
and cupboards to be dirked and tossed into the 
streets. Even their faithful dogs lay weltering in 
the gutters. 

Yet the feeble resistance over, the fury in Mon¬ 
trose’s eye as he rode through the town issuing 
rapid commands for the stopping of the carnage, 
brought all to their senses. No one had ever been 
able to hold in leash the fierce blood of the West¬ 
ern Clans as he did on this and other occasions to 
follow. 

The fires were extinguished and the women and 
children of Inverary lay cowering behind their 
broken doors, fearful of the worst which did not 
follow, as it had at Aberdeen. 

Meeting Ranald, I went with him seeking quar¬ 
ters, when passing a house more imposing than its 
fellows, we were arrested by a piercing scream. 
The door stood wide, through which flowed a 
broad beam of light. Looking within we beheld 
a handsome girl struggling in the grasp of two 
soldiers. 

"Mactavish’s crew!” snarled Ranald, recognis¬ 
ing them. 

With a single thought we drew our weapons and 
rushed in. With an oath Ranald drove his long 

52 



THE RAID 

blade into one of the ruffians. I saw the point 
gleam for a moment under the brute’s shoulder, 
before with a sob, he wilted and twitched upon the 
floor. 

There were several more in the room. Already 
half-mad with drink and seeing their comrades 
down, they drew and came at us. My shoulder be¬ 
ing still stiff from the blow of the pot at Crian- 
larich, I was hard put to it to defend myself, whilst 
Ranald roaring "Sannoch to us!” made a diversion 
amongst them. Kicking a stool into the legs of 
one, he ran the man through as he stumbled and 
with a wide parade, slashed another on the arm, 
causing him to drop his sword. 

"Have done, you dogs!” he bellowed, swinging 
the girl out of harm’s way behind us. "Have you 
gone mad? You know the orders!” 

For a moment I thought that he had cowed them, 
but a short, dark kerne pointed at me with a 
whispered comment in Gaelic and they came on 
again. We had put a table between us and our 
adversaries, but just in time, for one of them be¬ 
thinking himself of a bill-hook, dropped his sword 
and seizing it, sought to drag us out whilst his 
comrades diverted our attention with their blades. 

Blinded with sweat, breathless and with my arm 
swinging in ever-widening parries, I tried to hold 
my end of the table, expecting every moment to 

53 



THE HIGHLANDER 
««« <<<< << <<<<<<<<<< <<<<<< <<< << 

be my last, when with a roar which drowned the 
din, Dougal burst into the room with Rory Oig 
at his back. Up swung the long, broad-bladed axe 
and with a swish he lopped off the head of the little 
dark man and rushing into the melee, scattered 
them like chaff. Some ran up the stairs and Dougal 
and Rory were hard on their heels when a com¬ 
manding voice cried, "Stop!” 

Leaning against the table for support, I beheld 
the Marquis in the door with Mactavish and 
several gentlemen of his staff peering over his 
shoulder. An angry gleam was in his eye, as 
looking beyond me to Ranald, he strode into the 
room over the bodies of the men upon the floor. 

"Captain Mackenzie,” he barked, "what the 
devil is the meaning of this?” 

"Sir,” interrupted Mactavish, " ’tis easy enough 
to see! These scoundrels have fallen upon my 
men in the pursuit of their justifiable spoils. ’Tis 
out of enmity to me!” 

Montrose waved impatiently to him to be quiet. 
"I asked not you, Mactavish,” he said, still look¬ 
ing at Ranald, who by now had caught his breath. 

"Milord,” he answered, "we came upon these 
rascals not plundering, but attempting to ravish 
this girl, and knowing your stern commands in 
this, we but attempted to bring order when they set 
upon us.” 


54 



THE RAID 

<<<<<<<< <<<<<< < < << < << < <<<<< < <<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

"What girl?” asked the Marquis. 

"Why, this—” Ranald turned and stopped in 
the middle of the sentence and we stared open- 
mouthed at each other. "Milord,” he completed, 
"she has gone!” 

"A likely story!” sneered Mactavish, whilst 
others laughed and the Mactavish sept, seeing their 
cue, took up the denial. 

"Come, Captain,” said the Marquis, looking 
blacker every minute. "Cannot your fertile brain 
evolve a better story than that?” 

"The tale is true!” growled Dougal, drawing all 
eyes to himself where he stood at the foot of the 
stairs, leaning upon his bloody axe. "The tale is 
true. Rory Oig kens weel a lassie came running 
in the market-place, her hair all aglee, pointing 
this way. 'Quick/ says she, 'some gentlemen are 
in dire peril and call "Sannoch” to the rescue!’ 
Who should she be but a Campbell woman, abroad 
in the toon tha nicht?” 

"Was she no’ a bonnie lassie?” he asked, address¬ 
ing me above the murmur of comment which his 
words aroused. "Wi’ golden hair and wore a linen 
curch and a long blue cape, clasped at the throat 
wi’ a silver brooch?” 

"Aye,” I answered, "that she did!” 

"Then, 5 tis the same,” he said, addressing the 
Marquis. 


55 



THE HIGHLANDER 
*<<<<<<<<<<<<<<*<<<■<■<■ <■<<-<-<-<■< <«<« « ««« 

"You,” he asked, "are Sannoch’s henchman, are 
you not?” 

"Aye,” came the uncompromising reply. "His 
gillie mhor—fight for him, lie for him and die for 
him if need be, but that which I have said is the 
truth!” 

Montrose pondered for a moment. "I would like 
to believe your excuse,” he said, "but you must ad¬ 
mit that it is but poorly proved. Your man, I 
am afraid, might be over-zealous in your favour.” 

"Milord,” interjected Sir John Stewart, who till 
then had made no comment, despite the mur¬ 
mured disapproval of the turn things were taking 
from the friends of Mactavish, " ’tis at least the 
word of two gentlemen who were present against 
one that was not and one whom we all know is 
none too friendly in his feeling to Sannoch.” 

"That is a fair supposition,” answered the Mar¬ 
quis. "Let us rest the matter. There is enough to 
do without Highland gentlemen being at their 
own throats. Meanwhile, you, Sannoch and you, 
Mactavish, I bid you keep peace amongst you till 
the King’s work be done!” 

But just as everything seemed to be settled, that 
haughty pride of Ranald’s had to reopen the 
breach. Stepping forward with easy grace from 
behind the table, he bowed deferentially to the 

56 



THE RAID 
«« «« <« <«- « < 

Marquis until the blade of his sword bent like 
a bow. 

"Pardon, milord, there is a bit more to say. Few 
enough of my name are in your train, as I deplore, 
but we Mackenzies are not wont to take the lie, or 
have our words doubted. So long as there remains 
any doubt as to the truth in your lordship’s mind, 
there can be no place for me upon your staff. I beg 
leave to attach myself to Sir John.” 

That the Marquis was vexed, as well he might be, 
was apparent to all, yet, with fine control he con¬ 
cealed it in his voice though a flush slowly rose 
in his cheek. 

"Captain Mackenzie, you make my position dif¬ 
ficult. This kettle of fish becomes less palatable 
every moment. I think it is apparent to all that 
I have taken no sides in this for, whichever way 
I turn, I should lose supporters—arms that the 
King needs. I beg you to reconsider—God knows 
I have need of you, and,” he added with a weary 
smile, gazing at the shambles about his feet, "you 
seem to have had the best of this!” 

"Milord,” answered Ranald stubbornly—and I 
could have shook him for it—"I cannot reconsider.” 
And looking meaningly at Mactavish, "I think 
my cousin has more need of me at the moment.” 

The Marquis made no reply, but turning on his 

57 




THE HIGHLANDER 

heel, strode from the room and we followed in the 
wake of his retinue. 

Finding lodging in a miserable inn nearby, we 
sat before a roaring fire discussing our troubles 
over a tankard of mulled malmsey. Ranald gazed 
moodily into the fire, his long-booted legs stretched 
to the blaze. I sensed the regret for his high- 
spirited action which was passing through his mind, 
yet knew that he would not be able to pocket his 
pride and resentment from the position in which he 
had foolishly placed himself. He could ill afford 
to give up a post as important as that which he 
held—one envied by many a laird with a stout 
following at his back. Montrose was not given to 
asking favours from anyone and Ranald had placed 
him in a position before his staff where he had to 
accept the resignation or back down. The soul 
of honour, even if he believed Mactavish guilty 
of furthering his own aims at our expense and of 
infractions most serious to the Marquis’ ordnances, 
he could not accept our story over that of Mactav¬ 
ish solely on circumstance and thereby arouse the 
ire of many stout supporters. 

"Ranald, why did you do it?” 

"I had to,” he said, with a toss of his head. 

"Rot, man! you know he meant us well. You 
left him nothing else to do!” 

"Well,” he replied with a rueful grin, 

58 


twas 



THE RAID 

more than Mactavish had the stomach to do and 
he was in a like position!” 

"Aye, and being the man he is—and mean as a 
serpent—he was craftier than you.” 

"Ah, well,” he laughed, quaffing his malmsey, 
" ’twas a bonnie fight, was it not, laddie? And 
you cut your teeth!” 

"You forget, ’twas not the first,” I said in¬ 
dignantly. "Was I not at Crianlarich and other 
affrays since?” 

"Aye,” he roared, "and got a pot on your head 
for your pains. There’s the romance of wars for 
you! As for the others, nothing but chasing a 
frightened rabble! Now, tonight was different. 
You were fighting determined men—deadly enemies 
intent on doing you mischief. Don’t you see the 
difference? That’s why I say you cut your teeth!” 

"And never touched one, whilst you got three!” 

"No matter, after all, if I am not a better fight¬ 
ing man than the average, would I still be plying 
my trade? Besides, ’twas you they were intent on 
getting. You did well, laddie. I am proud of 
you.” And then as I glowed with his praise, he 
spoiled it with a chuckle—"Despite the shoulder 
you received at Crianlarich!” 

"I wonder,” I queried, "what happened to the 
lass?” 

"Aye,” he said. "I had forgotten her. She must 

59 




THE HIGHLANDER 

«« «««■< «««« 

have slipped out whilst we were busily engaged. 
Now, who the devil could she be? A lady by the 
look—and a sprightly lass, despite her knavish way 
of leaving us.” 

"But, she brought succour!” I expostulated. 

"Oh, aye. She did that,” he admitted. "But do 
not expect much of the lassies, unless you take it! 
She did not come back to thank us, did she? Or 
fall in your arms? She brought succour and a 
good way too, to draw attention from herself. 
Still, I would like to know who she was, for I dare 
swear she is a Campbell of account!” 

"Ranald,” I said, over a second tankard whilst 
we still discussed the fight, "go to the Marquis in 
the morning and tell him that you have recon¬ 
sidered.” 

"No, HI not. I cannot. Besides,” he added with 
a waggish grin, "it won’t be necessary. Some day 
Fll save his life, get news of value, or think up a 
clever suggestion to send him and then he will 
ask me. No, I have other plans. Dougal told me 
that you were fired on from ambush in Glen 
Docart. Now, here is news for you. You remember 
the night we lay in Vorlich? Well, after we were 
abed, a message came that the Marquis wanted 
me.” Ranald lowered his voice to a whisper and 
leaned forward, the better for me to hear. "I got 
up softly, so as not to disturb you, and the better 

60 



THE RAID 

« «<« «««<■«««-<-«««««<««««« 
to make time, put on your brogues instead of these 
jack boots and seizing a cloak from off the wall 
—for the night was raw—proceeded up the street. 
It was moonlight, but great scuds of clouds raced 
across its face, temporarily throwing the street 
into deep shadows. I found the supposed cloak 
was but your plaid and thinking naught of that, 
I wrapped it about me and stepped forth. As I 
did, there was a thud and something struck the 
door behind me. An arrow had nailed your plaid 
to the stout oak. An arrow, intended for you, 
laddie. Now you know why I would be with 
you. Yon men of yours are stout, but they are not 
always beside you! Let’s to bed!” 

We mounted to our room and ere we went to 
rest, Ranald hauled a heavy settle over against the 
door and laid his unsheathed sword beside him, with 
the Highland pistols by the tallow dip. The moon¬ 
light poured in the window. Inverary had quieted 
down to a shuddering slumber. A baby cried 
fretfully, a hound bayed dolefully at the moon and 
in the distance, the song of some drunken soldiers 
going to their quarters, slowly died away. The 
bed shook and I sensed Ranald’s silent laughter. 

"What is it?” I asked. 

"Oh,” he yawned. "I was thinking of how the 
wee man’s head popped across the room when 
Dougal swung his axe!” 


61 




«■«««««< 

CHAPTER V 
« <■<««««* 


Inverlocby 

January was upon us when we moved out of In¬ 
verary and marched north up the shores of Loch 
Awe. It was time, for the Covenant was massing 
an army in the South to come to Argyll’s aid. 
Men dispatched by Leven from over the Border who 
would be quickly augmented by all the Camp¬ 
bells the Earl could rally to his standard, thirsting 
for revenge. 

Our progress was slow, for we were laden down 
with the spoils of Inverary—the curse of every 
victorious Highland Army. The weather turned 
against us and with that came word that Seaforth 
had gathered his Mackenzies and taken the field 
to oppose Montrose while Baillie had amassed his 
army at Perth, with the intention of marching to 
join Seaforth and catch us before we were out of 
the Western Glens, between the upper and the 
nether millstones, with him in front and Argyll on 
our tail. 

But Montrose was never one to wait; he had out- 

62 




INVERLOCHY 

«««« «« « ■<«««< <<<<<<■< <- < <<<< < <<<■ < -<- < 

marched all his adversaries before and believed he 
could again. Forcing his troops to destroy most 
of their spoils—a wise precaution, as otherwise 
they would desert to carry it to their homes—he re¬ 
doubled his speed with the intention of opposing 
Seaforth before he joined the ever-slothful Baillie. 

Thus began a march which will remain one of the 
great exploits of military history. The main body 
of the army was in no condition to take the high 
path by Rannoch Moor, for they were still heavily 
laden, so arriving at the shores of Loch Etive, they 
skirted it to the west, while the Appin men, to 
which Ranald and I were attached, took the shorter 
route home by Glen Etive and Rannoch, where 
they dispersed with their hard-earned booty, prom¬ 
ising to rejoin the Marquis on the northern march 
betwix Ben Nevis and Ben Alder. 

The march was made in the teeth of a great gale. 
The snow blew off the tops in smothering gusts 
and we constantly lost our way. Some of the 
cattle strayed off in the storm and wounded men, 
of which God be thanked we had but few, fell by 
the wayside and succumbed to the elements. Yet, 
when we reached Castle Stewart the rejoicing was 
great and Ranald and I were made much of by 
Sir John’s family. A great feast was prepared, 
which lasted for three days, during which the grim 
old fortress was packed to its limits with neigh- 

63 



THE HIGHLANDER 

hours from all about who flocked to join in the 
jollifications in thanks for victory over their hated 
enemies and oppressors. The pipes skirled from 
morning till far into the night. There were games 
and sword and buckler matches, dancing and sing¬ 
ing. The fare was rude to one like Ranald, familiar 
with the refinements of Continental Europe, but 
rude as it was, it was honest in its hospitality and 
there was plenty. Sheep and sucklings were roasted 
whole and the board groaned under great sides 
of beef, haunches of venison and such delicacies 
as haggis, grouse pie and fishes which had been 
smoked in the autumn and laid away. With it was 
much strong ale and native whisky for the lower 
table and fine Sac and other wines from France 
for the gentry. Sir John was much travelled and 
when he had Ranald for a listener, discussed with 
pleasure of his journeys to France and Italy. 

Like all Highland homes, the place itself was 
bare. In the great hall where we feasted and most 
of the visitors lay to sleep, long trestled tables and 
benches to match with a chest or two and some 
stools before the hearth, represented the furnish¬ 
ings. On the walls hung some poor paintings of 
departed Stewarts, ancient arms and trophies of 
the chase. Those favoured ones who found quar¬ 
ters in the small confines of the keep fared similarly, 
but few of the windows had casements, so, such 

64 



INVERLOCHY 

<<< <<<<< <<<<<<<< < << <<< <<< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 
wind and wet as was not kept out by a cloak found 
entrance at will. A rude pallet to sleep upon, a 
peg or two and a stool, a table with a basin and 
ewer, which one emptied out the window—such 
were the comforts of a West Highland home for 
all but the immediate family of the Laird. 

Alas! These glorious days were soon to pass. 
Word reached us that Montrose was at hand, hav¬ 
ing come by the long route crossing the head of 
Loch Etive successfully, despite attempted inter¬ 
ference by an armed sloop which Argyll sent and 
which was wrecked in the storm. 

Setting forth with a force of one hundred and 
fifty new recruits of Appin, to be followed by 
his veterans of Inverary when they had stored 
their spoils, we rejoined the main force without 
adventure. Again the weather broke and the 
streams became torrents, but we always found boats 
somewhere and marching through Glencoe, we 
reached Lochaber, where we rested but a night at 
Inverlochy and pressed on to find Seaforth, know¬ 
ing that Argyll was lumbering along in our rear. 

It was the twenty-ninth of January when we 
reached the head of Loch Ness. The army had 
dwindled to fifteen hundred men, since many of 
the clansmen had dispersed to deposit their spoils. 
Alasdair’s Irish were with us, having no place to 
go, and the Camerons, Appin Stewarts, Macleans 

65 





THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<* ■ <<<<<< < <<< < < <■<-<<<■<<<■<-<<<<<< << < < «<« « 

and Macdonalds, a few of Atholl and a handful 
of Clanranald. As for horse, we had less than fifty 
and they were in sorry condition. 

At long last, we had definite news of Seaforth. 
Scouts brought in word that he was lying snug 
at Inverness, some thirty miles away, with five 
thousand Mackenzies and Frasers who had buried 
their ancient grudge in a common cause for the 
once and joined the garrison. 

We moved into Kilcumin, where a council of 
war was to be held. The little army was weary and 
again starving; never had things seemed more 
hopeless for Montrose. We were on the edge of 
an unfriendly country, in the heart of winter. 
The glens well-nigh impassable and the weather 
became worse day by day. Living on oatmeal, 
many in rags, their feet wrapped in sheepskin for 
want of brogues, our men were in an ill state and 
desertions were common. 

Well I remember the night of January the 
thirty-first. All the chiefs had gathered for the 
great council to decide the next move. I was Officer 
of the Day and standing guard without the house, 
pacing up and down wrapped in my plaid, my bon¬ 
net pulled over my ears. A biting wind blew up 
the street and whistled about the old buildings. 
The moon was almost full and everything stood out 
with startling distinctness against the ice and snow. 

66 



INVERLOCHY 


Hours went by. There was no indication of 
wakefulness from the house save for the gleam of 
light which escaped the cracks in the rotting shut¬ 
ters. A cat slunk by, seeking home and I cursed in 
my plaid that I should be on duty in such fiendish 
weather. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of hurrying feet 
on the hard ground. Two Cameron men came 
towards me bringing with them one well-nigh 
spent with exhaustion. 

"Quick! Montrose, where is he?” the stranger 
gasped in Gaelic. 

"He’s within,” I said, pointing to the house, 
"but cannot be disturbed unless it is of the first 
importance.” 

"Importance! He’ll think it is, I ken! I’m Alan 
Macildowie of Lochaber—” and leaning towards 
me, he whispered news which made me start. 

I grabbed his arm and not waiting to knock, 
thrust open the door. Montrose sat at a table 
surrounded by the most important chiefs, whilst 
the others leaned against the walls. All eyes were 
turned towards the door at our abrupt entry and 
sensing news, the Marquis rose expectantly. 

"I am Alan Macildowie,” said my companion, 
"and I come from Lochaber with dire news!” 

"Go on, man,” said the Marquis, "we have no 
secrets here!” 


67 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<*<< < < <<<<<*<<<<<-<<<-<-<-<■<■< < « «<««■««« 

" ’Tis this—I came by the highroad from Loch- 
aber. Argyll is at your heels, having harried Glen 
Spean and Glen Roy. Yesterday he was at Inver- 
lochy with three thousand men thirsting for more 
blood!” 

A buzz of comment filled the room. For a 
moment Montrose stood staring through Macil- 
dowie and into the beyond. Today, I know the 
vision which passed before his flashing eyes. His 
weary men were in a trap, from which they must 
break immediately. To the north was Seaforth, 
to the south Argyll—uncomfortably close. West¬ 
ward was a rock-bound coast and to the east, 
Baillie and his seasoned troops. Of the three, the 
vacillating Seaforth, who might turn coat again 
if the others were beaten, was the least to fear. 
Baillie, he had thrashed once and could again, but 
Argyll had Highlanders the equal of his own, no 
longer generalled by the unmilitary Earl, but by 
his kinsman, Sir Duncan Campbell, a seasoned com¬ 
mander, burning for revenge. There was the great¬ 
est strength! There was the place to strike a telling 
blow, whilst he still had the means—weakened as 
he was! 

Montrose smashed his fist against the table. The 
look of eagles was in his eyes! 

"Gentlemen, the die is cast! We go back to 
Inverlochy!” 


68 




INVERLOCHY 

So it was that on the last day of January we 
began that epic flanking march. Terrible as had 
been the Northern advance, it was to prove that 
we were capable of much more behind such a 
leader. At dawn we quietly stole away without the 
sound of pipe or trumpet. Up the rocky, ice- 
covered banks of the Tarff the little army wound 
its tortuous way—a thin ribbon of varied tartans 
—and was swallowed by the gloom in that icy 
Hell of mountains. 

The sky was dark and ominous with threats of 
further storm and the cold well-nigh unbearable 
when we crossed the Pass to Glen Turret. In the 
narrow valleys and high mountain corries which 
we had to cross the snow lay in great drifts. Men 
afoot had to beat their way through it so the 
Horse could follow. Those in front when near 
exhaustion would fall back to let others take their 
places. So the army staggered on! 

Avalanches of rock and snow threatened us 
on footpaths where a slip meant disaster. Ravines 
had to be climbed down into with bleeding hand 
holds, to wallow through exhausting drifts and 
climb again the opposite face, there to be met again 
with the stinging blast of the gale when once we 
reached the top. How Ogilvy ever got through 
with his little band of horse I do not know, but 
somehow they found a way and kept up with us. 

69 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<« « < < « «« «< «« ««««««««« « « 

Down the Pass we went and into Glen Roy— 
slipping—sliding—getting up and falling down 
—bleeding—cursing—sobbing with hate, but go¬ 
ing on! Never a stop to rest—to rest was to freeze, 
to be left behind to the ravens and the foxes! All 
day we staggered to our goal with bloodshot eyes, 
hungry, chilled to the bone—near death with ex¬ 
haustion. The enemies we fought that day were 
worse than ten thousand Campbell men! 

Scouts were sent on ahead to look for Argyll 
patrols, but met with none. We came through de¬ 
files where a dozen men could have withheld an 
army, but despite the lesson of Inverary, they did 
not dream that flesh and bone could stand those 
terrible mountains in a Highland winter. The 
scouts were picked from the Cameron men. It 
was their turn to lead, for they knew the country. 
Those selected were archers and deer stalkers. 
Passing through a clump of firs they jumped an 
occasional roe or deer which fell to their unerring 
aim and was quickly gobbled up by those nearby. 
The blood was mixed with oatmeal and the flesh 
stripped from the carcass and wolfed raw, for no 
fires could be lit, nor had we the time. The rest 
of the army had but oatmeal mixed with water— 
and not enough of that. 

The Marquis and his gentlemen fared no better 
than the rest, setting an example which met the 

70 



INVERLOCHY 


<■ «<<< << <<<<<< << « <<<<■<<■« «<< « <<< - < ■ 

admiration of all. Kilted like his followers, a plaid 
about his shoulders and carrying his targe and his 
broadsword across his back like any clansmen, we 
saw him pass, wearing bravely a Highland bonnet 
to which was fastened an eagle’s feather by the 
clan badge of the Grahams. 

"There goes a fighting man,” said Ranald, as 
he passed. " ’Tis easy to suffer when it brings a 
smile from his grey eyes!” 

We pushed on through the long night and in 
the morning came to the Bridge of Roy and passed 
over into Spean. From here it was thirteen miles 
to Inverlochy the direct way, in which they would 
look if suspicious. To take them in the rear, we 
swung in a wide circuit following that sea of 
mountain peaks along the northern slope of Ben 
Nevis. Once a raiding party of Campbells were 
seen, of which not a man escaped to carry word 
of our coming. As if stalking deer, the Cameron 
men crept stealthily upon them and when in strik¬ 
ing distance rushed their victims, cutting down 
those who stood to resist and arrowing the rest as 
they fled. From the high top where we witnessed 
the encounter, not a sound reached our ears. It 
was fought in deadly silence and even the clash of 
weapons was deadened by the gale. 

At twilight we reached Meall-an-t’suidhe and 
threw ourselves down to watch the fires of Argyll’s 

71 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<■«« « «« 

army where they prepared their evening meal on 
the shores of the angry Loch in the shadows of 
Inverlochy Tower. By eight o’clock all of the 
weary and famished army had staggered in and 
flung themselves down, fireless and supperless, to 
sleep. The moon now rose and the enemy was 
faintly discernible to us. Desultory fire was kept 
up during the night by the opposing pickets, but no 
attempt was made to dislodge us, Argyll thinking 
that it was but a raiding party of some petty chiefs 
come to harass him, which would disappear like 
mist in the morning. 

I lay by Ranald in the lee of a great fir, silently 
looking down on the enemy’s camp. One by one, 
the gleam of their fires dimmed and died out and 
the waning moon cast lengthened shadows upon the 
snow. 

"What has your thoughts, laddie?” he asked, 
squeezing my arm. 

"I know not. Perhaps, it is the hovering of 
death. I seem to feel his wings!” 

"Hoot! That’s no way for a Roy Sider to think. 
Tomorrow you’ll see a sterner phase of war and 
come through bravely. ’Tis written! And Mon¬ 
trose will win again. Alan Macildowie, the bard of 
Keppoch, the same who brought us warning of 
Argyll, has prophesied it. But ’tis always so with 
young soldiers on the eve of battle. They lie and 

72 



INVERLOCHY 
^<<<< < < <<<<<< < ■<■<<<< 

ponder of what the morrow will bring, while the 
veterans roll in their blankets and reck not of it. 
Keep your mind from it. Think rather of your 
brother!” 

"Tell me, Ranald,” I asked, "shall we ever solve 
the mystery of Glen Lyon?” 

He pondered a minute. Then, "Aye, I believe 
we will. One night at Inverary I stopped some 
devils plaguing an ancient crone as she hobbled 
home to her hovel with her wee goat. Poor hag— 
a year or two from now they’ll burn her for a 
witch; the down will grow thicker on her chin, 
her bowed shoulders more bent; her eyes will gleam 
more balefully through her filthier locks, and she 
hating herself, will hate her neighbours more and 
fling her curses at them. Then some moonlit night 
—like this—one of them will behold her sailing 
over the roofs upon a broomstick or, perchance, 
slinking down a dark alley to come out again a 
cat. Strange,” he mused, "that she cannot foretell 
her own doom! Yet, she asked me to cross her 
palm and foretold mine. It is not here, but I shall 
know the place when the time comes—she told me 
too that we would discover your brother’s slayer— 

'Find the brooch which bound his plaid, 

Then you will know the slayer, and his ghost be 

laid!’ 


73 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<<<< 

—thus it ran. There was more—but no matter!” 

"Nonsense!” I expostulated, "do you really be¬ 
lieve these things?” 

"Aye, I do—at least on such a night as this, 
when if there are witches, warlocks or hobgoblins 
they must be abroad. But seriously, there can be 
no doubt our Highland people have the gift of 
second sight. I have seen it also amongst the 
gypsies when I fought against the Turk with the 
Grand Duke. They also are a mountain people 
and have this gift. Mayhap it is the simple lonely 
lives they live, given to much introspective thought, 
which put them closer to another world beyond 
our ken. But they see things and know much which 
we cannot hope to see or know. I know not 
whether it is good or evil—no doubt like every¬ 
thing else it is a mixture of both. But Macildowie 
foretold the capture of Inverary and Argyll scoffed 
at him. He also foretold that the Campbell strength 
would melt in an arm of the sea and the day is at 
hand. I have no fear of the morrow for you or 
me, for I believe that old crone and we have much 
to do yet. Come, let’s to our plaids!” 

Our battle array was formed before dawn. Mon¬ 
trose entrusted the wings to his tried Commanders 
—the right under Alasdair and the left to O’Cahan. 
He kept command of the centre, composed of 
Appin, Atholl, Cameron and Glencoe men, whilst 

74 



INVERLOCHY 

««« <<<<<<<<<<<<< < ■ « ■<« <■<■<<■<<<■<<<<<<<<<< 

the second line in reserve consisted of the Clan- 
ranald and Glengarry, with the Horse under Ogilvy. 
Slowly, we moved forward till the lines were less 
than a mile apart and waited for the dawn. The 
men were served a little raw oatmeal mixed with 
cold water and the clergy exhorted their flocks. 
Then, as a faint light dissolved the darkness, the 
peaks at our backs shot streaks of gold towards 
our goal. The Highland men doffed their plaids 
and scragged their bonnets, preparing to charge 
bareheaded in their saffron shirts, as is their way. 
Targes were set on forearm, broadswords un¬ 
sheathed, priming looked to and those carrying the 
great claymores—double-hilted with blades four 
feet and more in length—unslung them from their 
backs. 

The surprise was complete. Argyll’s force was 
astir and hastily arrayed. Trumpets blared and 
the Royal Standard was shaken out to the breeze. 
Then came the fierce pibroch of the Cameron 
pipes, "Sons of Dogs, come and I will feed you 
flesh!” and Argyll knew that he had more than 
a raiding party with which to contend that Candle¬ 
mas morning. The miracle of vengeance had hap¬ 
pened again! 

As ever, Alasdair and O’Cahan started the fight. 
Opposed to them were the vaunted Lowland troops 
of Leven, which Sir Duncan had placed upon his 

75 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<■««««««« 

wings, holding the centre with the Clan Campbell. 

Shoulder to shoulder in a long, thin line the 
wings swept forward with a mighty shout, gather¬ 
ing speed as they went, and like an avalanche struck 
the Lowlanders and crumpled them up. Despite 
veteran experience in England, they were totally 
unprepared for a fearsome Highland charge. 
Shaken by its awe-inspiring terror and weakened 
by a withering volley in their faces as the clansmen 
dashed into their shattered ranks, they broke and 
fled. 

Down surged Montrose and his Camerons on 
the centre, enveloping its now raw flanks and 
driving it back slowly, but relentlessly upon the 
reserve. This was absorbed in the general melee on 
the narrow confines by the sea, having no room to 
keep intact and present a second battlefront on 
which our strength might expend itself. 

Valiantly they stood and fought, those Campbell 
men. Well they knew that they could expect no 
quarter—they who had given none! 

With the Appin men we of Sannoch hacked 
and hewed our way—panting for breath with 
lungs spent and throat burning like fire—guard¬ 
ing here, stabbing there. Thrice I stumbled from 
a blow over a fallen foe, but each time Dougal, 
roaring, "Tullach Ard!”—the battle cry of his 

76 




INVERLOCHY 
^<< <<<<<<<<<<<-<<< < <■ <-<- < 

Mackenzies—stood over me, swinging his great 
axe like a flail and clearing the space about. 

So close was the fight that I never thought of 
my pistols until once when I was down and Dougal 
was hard pressed, I shot a Campbell in the back 
who sought to steal upon him from behind. It 
was over in less than an hour. Some ran to the 
water where they were drowned or struck down 
in the waves, vainly trying to reach the ship of 
their chief to which he had again escaped as at 
Inverary. Others ran along the shore and took to 
the hills where they were hunted down like game. 

Vainly, Montrose tried to save those who were 
taken. The Lowlanders were spared, but even he 
could not save the Campbells. Fifteen hundred of 
them fell at Inverlochy, including their Com¬ 
mander, Sir Duncan Campbell, and some forty 
barons. The military power of the Clan Campbell 
was crushed forever! 


77 



<■«<«««<« 

CHAPTER VI 
«■«■«««<« 


The Retreat 

We rested for a few days at Inverlochy. The 
Campbell dead were stripped of arms and raiment 
by Alasdair’s miserable camp-followers and leav¬ 
ing their frozen corpses behind us, we again went 
north. 

The obvious move was to turn west and descend 
by way of Perth upon the capital. None knew 

that better than Montrose, but we had no ar- 

> 

tillery and worse yet, no cavalry. Without it 
such a course was madness. Our tiny army would 
have been gobbled up in the open Lowlands by 
the strong force under Baillie, well equipped with 
horse, which was yet to be contended with. Our 
only hope of acquiring it was by wooing Huntly, 
who, with the powerful Campbells permanently 
out of the picture, might take heart. 

So we went slowly over the old route to Loch 
Ness, to learn that the news of our victory had 
preceded us and Seaforth had disappeared into 
Kintail, well pleased to let well enough alone. We 

78 




THE RETREAT 

marched down the Loch and passed the city which 
was too strongly garrisoned for assault and con¬ 
tinued on to Elgin where many of the Gordon 
gentry joined us with the Grants of Spey. Best of 
all came Lord Gordon—Huntly’s heir—with three 
hundred well equipped horse. 

We were standing by the market cross when 
Montrose embraced him. 

"Now, there’ll be work for me,” crowed Ranald, 
tucking up his sword with a swagger. "By all 
accounts, this Gordon is a gallant lad, cut from 
different cloth than his old fox of an uncle. How 
the Marquis will love him for that show of horse! 
Now it’s ho, for Edinburgh! The Estates will quake 
in their boots!” 

On the heels of Gordon’s men came another 
band afoot, the leader on a stout Highland pony. 
As they drew near, Ranald noted to his surprise 
that they wore the Mackenzie tartan. 

"God save us!” he exclaimed. "Will wonders 
never cease this happy day? ’Tis my kinsman 
Seaforth. Watch me bait the old badger. I have 
not forgotten his spite at my joining the Marquis 
without his bidding!” 

Standing with arms akimbo, he obstructed the 
Earl of Seaforth’s way and sweeping his feathered 
hat to the ground in exaggerated respect, he cried 
to the amusement of us all— 

79 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<< <■< < « <-<■<■«< < < - < -<•<•< «««« 

"Good day to you, kinsman! Now I know 
that I am forgiven for running off without your 
blessing, when you ride all the way from Kintail to 
tell me so. Tut! I do declare, I don’t deserve it!” 

The Earl flushed red under his beard and looked 
sheepishly to see how others took the sally. But 
Montrose was not going to see any ally baited, 
however uncertain his support might be, and 
warning Ranald with a look which said, "Have 
done!” though his eye twinkled, he hastened to 
the pony’s side and with his ever courtly courtesy, 
welcomed Seaforth to the Royal cause. 

Happy days followed. Our force changed, but 
nevertheless its strength was augmented. The 
Lochaber men skipped home with their booty as 
did many others who no longer feared the Camp¬ 
bells, but some Stewarts and Atholls remained, to 
which were added many Gordons, Robertsons and 
Grants, till Montrose felt strong enough to try his 
luck with Baillie on the Tay. 

One night Ranald came merrily home, roaring 
a drinking song, to spill a quantity of gold upon 
the table in our quarters, which he insisted on 
sharing with me. 

"One for you and one for me! Share and share 
alike,” he repeated owlishly, dividing it coin by 
coin. "Seaforth has gone awa’ hame to hold the 
North for the King while we do the fighting— 

80 



THE RETREAT 

«< «< « «« « ■«« «■<■«< <■< <■<■<■« < ««««« 

and a good place for him! But before he left the 
Marquis called me to his presence and gave me 
command of Ogilvy’s remaining horse. A com¬ 
pliment to the old cattle-reever—me being a 
Mackenzie. And not to be outdone, though it must 
cost him sore to give up money he took from the 
neighbourly Frasers, gave me this with his blessing! 
Told you it would come all right, did I not?” 

On the ninth of March we broke camp and 
refreshed in spirit and strength, headed towards 
Aberdeen. There was much plundering on the 
way and we either took levy from all Covenant 
partisans or burned them out of house and home. 
There was little fighting, save for the brush with 
Sir John Hurry at Aberdeen in which we lost the 
knightly Farquharson—a severe blow to Montrose 
and one which he felt most keenly, next to the death 
of his eldest son, Lord Graham, who had suc¬ 
cumbed to the rigours of that terrible winter cam¬ 
paign. 

News from the South was far from comforting. 
The estates at Edinburgh were in a panic and to 
vent their spleen, declared the Marquis of Mon¬ 
trose a traitor, with a price upon his head. The 
kirk, not to be outdone, issued an edict of ex- 
communication. These things in themselves were 
ridiculous to us, but their zeal went further. Many 
known to favour the Royalist Cause were thrown 

81 



THE HIGHLANDER 

«■«« ««« 

in the Tolbooth, among them our historian Wis- 
hart, with Ogilvy and others of account. 

On the eighteenth of March, we moved south 
by Stonehaven to Brechlin, where we had another 
brush with Hurry’s cavalry, driving them across 
the Esk and continued on towards Dundee. The 
elusive Baillie now opposed us with three thousand 
veterans, composed principally of reinforcements 
sent him by Leven from Carlisle. Montrose sought 
battle, but the ever cautious bungler continued to 
give ground and would not come to blows. Finally, 
in despair of getting him to fight, Montrose struck 
boldly off for the Lowlands by the Dunkeld road. 

Baillie, foreseeing his threat at Edinburgh, hast¬ 
ened to guard the bridges across the Forth. Easily 
could our fast marching Highlanders have beaten 
him to them, but the gallant Marquis was to suffer 
another of those bitter disappointments which 
would have broken a less determined man long 
before. Rich once more with the booty of the past 
three months, his Highlanders began deserting to 
their homes. The strength of the army was so 
dissipated that all hope of the Lowland campaign 
had again to be tossed to the wind. They would 
fight on their own dunghills like the wildcats of 
their glens, but once show them booty which spelt 
wealth beyond their fondest hopes and away they 
were in the night like the will-o’-the-wisp. 

82 



THE RETREAT 

Ranald fumed with rage; for the first time he 
had a body of horse under him, on the rim of a 
country where cavalry was effective and then due to 
the avarice of our own people, the campaign was 
in the air. "Curse them!” he cried, bitter tears in 
his eyes, "these heroes, capable of Inverary and 
Inverlochy, Aberdeen and a dozen minor battles, 
for a paltry shilling they would indirectly dirk 
their leader in the back!” 

But the Marquis was never without a solution 
for his problems. If one tool failed, he tried an¬ 
other. Twenty-four miles away was haughty Dun¬ 
dee, a strong Covenant town needing chastisement. 
Much of his remnant army required shoes and 
clothing, for most of them were barefoot and in 
rags. Very well, then Dundee it was. After that 
he would see what happened. Mayhap by then 
some of his deserters hearing of Dundee would take 
heart and come back for spoils which lay tempt¬ 
ingly in the larger cities to the south. 

Leaving his luggage behind heavily guarded, he 
left Dunkeld at two o’clock in the morning with 
but six hundred foot, mostly Alasdair’s loyal Irish 
veterans and a hundred and fifty horse. 

At ten o’clock the following morning, which was 
the third of April, 1645, he was under the walls of 
the town and summoned it to surrender. There 
was some hesitancy on the part of the burghers, so a 

83 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< < < < < <-<■<■< < <«■«« 

weak place in the wall was stormed and the town 
overrun in a twinkling. Under the stern eye of the 
Marquis, little harm was done to the non-resisting 
townsmen, but the shops were quickly broken into 
and shoes and clothes dragged out. More than one 
discomforted tradesman stood shivering with fear 
in his shirt, whilst the wild tribesmen donned his 
brogues and outer garments. 

Cellars were looted and wine casks rolled into the 
streets where they were broached and soon the army 
was in a drunken fuddle. As the sun sank over the 
hills, there was a clatter of hoofs and Ranald 
dashed into the Square with word that Baillie and 
Hurry were not in Fife, but actually four miles 
from the West gates and coming on fast. 

Officers dashed about beating their stupified men 
with the flats of their swords. Some cried to 
Montrose to fly for his life and live to fight another 
day, while others prepared to build barricades and 
sell their lives dearly in the trap. But the Marquis 
had no such vainglorious ideas. Immediately alive 
to the situation, he issued sharp commands that 
rattled off his tongue like hail from a slate roof. 
"Drag them to the horse-troughs and soak their 
heads! Smash those casks! Into the street with 
them!” Grabbing kernes in his own hands, he 
shook and kicked them into a sense of their danger. 
Those who had thought more of pillage than the 

84 



THE RETREAT 

««<< « ««< < «« <<-<«< < <■«-<-<■ 

grape ran out of the houses and quickly a few 
hundred were in good order, headed for the East 
gate. Meanwhile the imperturbable Ranald sat his 
horse quietly in the Square, a score of troopers be¬ 
hind him, watching the Marquis like a hawk, de¬ 
termined not to let him from his sight. 

"Captain Mackenzie!” 

"Milord!” answered Ranald. 

"Take what horse you can command and ride to 
the West gate. Hold the road at all costs until you 
hear our pipes as a sign we have cleared the town.” 

"Come!” said Ranald grimly to me. "I have a 
horse for you. You will see action like a gentle- 

i >> 

man! 

"Troopers, by the left flank! March!” 

We trotted out of the town, picking up more 
mounted men on our way and found Nathaniel 
Gordon with part of his command already there. 
We mustered about seventy, no more. Dusk had 
gathered over the low ground. The hills in the dis¬ 
tance had turned black, save where the crests were 
touched with the crimson brush of the setting sun. 
Pale faces gleamed with startling distinctness in 
the gathering gloom. There was not a sound save 
for the creak of leather and the mournful cry of 
the green plover. In another ten minutes it would 
be completely dark. 

Our little squadron was drawn up in two platoons 

85 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< « « <■« <■« < «■< <<<<<<<<<<<<<< < <<<<<<<<< «-< 

of a single line each, under shadow of a gentle 
slope, half a mile west of the town. With the 
quick eye of the seasoned commander Ranald had 
appraised his land while there was still light. Our 
line was drawn so as to flank the road with good 
turf before us. 

Dimly we heard the clatter of many horses on 
the hard road. 

''Every other man dismount and hold two horses 
by the noses!” went the command quickly down 
the line from man to man. 

A moment later, a patrol went by at a fast trot 
and at the same time we heard Alasdair’s pipes. 
Someone laughed softly. Again we had given them 
the slip! Then we heard the thunder of hoofs from 
a heavy column coming along the road at a fast 
trot. 

"Mount!” came the command. 

The dismounted men regained their saddles. A 
horse or two neighed, but the heavy column made 
such a racket that they never heard it. 

"Broadswords! March!” 

We moved forward quickly across the field, 
boot to boot. 

"Trot!” 

Our pace gathered momentum as the horses 
almost as one broke into a gallop; and leaning over 
our saddles, we hurtled down upon the column. 

86 



THE RETREAT 

« «■<« « ■««< 

Too late, they tried to change front on the narrow 
road! There was a crash, something went down 
in front of me and recovering himself, my gallant 
horse leapt it. My point ripped into a black object 
before me and the hilt was almost wrenched from 
my hand as I passed over and we were through! 

Drawing rein as soon as possible, those of our men 
who had pistols fired into the mass at close quarters 
before Gordon’s bugle sounded the recall and 
Hurry’s cavalry, eight hundred strong, fled in¬ 
continently back to their supporting infantry. 
Farquharson was avenged and Montrose had gained 
a respite. 

Of the rest of that confused night march I knew 
but little. A few miles east of Dundee we regained 
the wake of the army. The way had been made 
difficult by the mass of spoil with which the 
drunken fools had staggered out of the town and to 
their grief had to discard along the way. Marching 
like demons, now thoroughly aware of their peril, 
they kept on through the night. Baillie, anticipat¬ 
ing that the Marquis would make for Brechin to 
save his previous luggage train and the guard he 
had left there before attempting to regain the hills, 
hastened towards the northeast to hem us in. 
Again the Marquis was ready for him. Seemingly 
always aware of what Baillie was thinking, he de¬ 
liberately followed the expected line and then sud- 

87 




THE HIGHLANDER 

denly turning right about face, counter marched 
some miles to the rear and turning west, crossed 
in the wake of Baillie who hurried on. 

Meanwhile, mounted messengers rode to Brechin 
bidding them fend for themselves. In all, our force 
covered seventy miles in less than forty hours, 
fought several rearguard engagements, pillaged 
Dundee, got themselves drunk and despite it, es¬ 
caped the threefold stronger enemies. Surely no 
more could be asked of flesh and blood to illuminate 
the annals of war. 

We were safe, but again in need of an army. 
Montrose sent off his aides once again to beat up 
recruits in the Highlands. Alasdair went to the 
Western Isle for more Macdonalds, leaving his 
Ulster men under O’Cahan. Black Pete to exhort 
Atholl and the Robertsons to further effort, while 
Lord Gordon rode to Aberdeenshire for more 
Gordons and to regain the Grants. Meanwhile, the 
Marquis, with the remnants of his army now re¬ 
duced to less than a thousand men, took to the 
hills of Balquhiddar to escape the constant chevying 
of Baillie. 


88 



<*«««««« « 

CHAPTER VII 

<HK <««<«««■ < 


The Plot 

While lying at Crief, Ranald sought me out, 
saying that he had evolved a scheme which he 
wished to disclose. It was a soft evening, so we 
sauntered out of town and sat down on a wall be¬ 
side the road where we could talk undisturbed. 

"Well,” he said, " ’tis this that I have in mind. 
More disquieting news comes from Auld Reekie. 
Lord Napier has been seized, heavily fined and 
placed in confinement for no other reason than 
that he is a brother-in-law of the Marquis. Many 
others of our avowed supporters are, as you know, 
rotting in the Tolbooth and there are those amongst 
the Estates who would drag out the whole lot and 
put an end to them if it were not that the more 
cautious fear the consequences should the Marquis 
become strong enough to take the town. Well they 
know that he would string them up if they harm 
his friends! 

"Nevertheless, they grow bolder. A courier with 
dispatches to the King was caught a fortnight since 

89 




THE HIGHLANDER 

«««< < < <<<<<<<< 

and, contrary to the rules of war, was hung. This 
is but a sign of how the wind blows.” He smoked 
in silence for a moment whilst I awaited more. 

"Admitting the Marquis has carried all before 
him since he unfurled the Royal Standard at Blair 
last August—less than a year ago—what has it 
really advanced the Cause? It diverted many thou¬ 
sands of troops from England and in this, relieved 
to some extent the pressure there; it has eliminated 
the Campbells—a matter of importance only to the 
Highland Clans and more particularly such neigh¬ 
bouring lairds as yourself. But that is all. We are 
virtually where we were before Tippemuir. 

"Laddie, I know these clansmen of ours. I know 
them well. I tell you I would lead a hundred clay¬ 
mores against the finest infantry in Europe and I 
have fought with or against the best. Look at the 
troops of Baillie—Hurry’s Horse and the seasoned 
Infantry which Leven sent from Carlisle! Why— 
we went through them like a knife in cheese. 
True, there were some raw levies amongst them, but 
the backbone was composed of veterans. Yet, and 
there’s the rub, you can’t hold the Clans! They’ll 
fight, never fear, when you get them in the field, 
but you cannot keep them there. We are but re¬ 
peating the history of Scotland from the time of 
the Bruce onward. 

"There is but one answer to this form of warfare. 

90 



THE PLOT 

■< « << < ■« << < <<<<<<< <- < -*-< <■«<-«hhhhhhk 

Eventually we will lose a battle and that’s the end. 
Unless we can first get into the Lowlands and win 
a stunning decision which will rally the Lowland 
nobles to our Standard. They will never come over 
till we do—they dare not—nor would you in their 
boots! 

"But, if Alasdair comes back again from the 
West with the Macdonalds and if only Gordon is 
successful in raising a few hundred horse, what with 
those we have, we can smash Baillie, though he out¬ 
number us three to one. Then before the Clans load 
up with booty, by waving the promise of Edin¬ 
burgh, Glasgow or Carlisle before their eyes, we can 
get them into the Lowlands without leaving our 
backs exposed. 

"But Ranald,” I asked, "surely the Marquis ap¬ 
preciates this!” 

"Appreciates it! Of course he does! But here is 
the other side of the picture. Suppose we meet 
with a disaster here? Even if it were repaired in 
time, which is doubtful, heads will fall in Edin¬ 
burgh! Innocent ones! Too late then! Reprisals 
make sweet vengeance, but they do not sew on 
heads once they’re lopped off! What we need are 
hostages! Preferably Lowland ones and that, 
laddie,” he finished, clapping me on the knee, "is 
where we come in!” 

"Does the Marquis know your plan?” I enquired. 

91 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<^-<-< «««< ««« «< 

"No, I have no plan, except to explain vaguely 
what I have in mind. I doubt that we can form one 
until we get to Edinburgh and reconnoitre the 
ground.” 

"You seem to accept it as settled that I am 
going,” I observed, glowing inwardly with the 
thrill of the adventure. 

"Ach,” he chuckled, "you’ll go fast enough. 
You’re the logical man to assist me, or I would not 
have bothered to tell you; besides, I have a wee bit 
idea in the back of my noddle, that touches you in 
this—of which I’ll tell you later. 

"Who could be better than you for it? Here 
we are within a day’s march of Sannoch. What 
more likely than your lads should want to go home 
like the rest? We would need a handful with us 
—let’s say Dougal, Rory Oig and Young Angus, 
he’s a sharp lad. We dare not take too many for 
ye cannot hide them. Leaving here avowedly for 
Sannoch, where in fact most of them would go, 
we turn south, dressed as drovers—in fact, it might 
be well to drive some cattle to avoid suspicion. And 
leaving the others without the walls, you and I will 
steal into town. No doubt you know some friend 
that we could trust?” 

I mentioned Mr. Alexander Cameron, whom I 
knew to be a loyal Scot. 

"The very man!” cried Ranald. "Wait, you lived 

92 



THE PLOT 
■«; << << « -<<<< < <<■<<<< < < 

with him, did you not? Some of his friends would 
know you and that is bad. Still, they may not 
know that you’re 'out.’ Hum—well—anyway, 
he can be useful, though we may not be able to 
show ourselves about his place. Now, the next 
thing, shall we tell the Marquis? I don’t like to 
risk having him turn it down,” he said, dubiously 
scratching his head, "'and then have to go anyway. 
What think you?” 

I was emphatically for telling him. So Ranald 
rose to go back and seek an audience with him. 

"Hold hard, whom are we going to kidnap, in 
case he should ask us?” 

"Oh, we don’t know yet—the Earl of Argyll 
would be best, but failing him, one of the Council!” 

"Lord!” I gasped. "You aim high!” 

"Hoot! The higher the better for our purpose 
and sometimes the easier it is in the end!” 

A little while later he sought me out again and 
we hurried to Headquarters in the only inn which 
the town boasted. Stumbling up the rickety stairs, 
we knocked discreetly on a door and a voice bade 
us enter. By the dim light of a single candle, I 
beheld the Marquis bending over a map. His long 
locks hid his face, but when he straightened up I 
saw that he was wan and thin as any of us. 

Graciously he greeted us and motioned to a seat 
on a chest at the foot of the bed. 

93 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<■<<<<<■< <<<<< < <<<<<<<<<<< 

"Captain Mackenzie tells me he has a proposal 
to make, but would not divulge it until you were 
present,” he smiled, and stretching out in his chair, 
prepared to listen. 

Ranald explained his plot, much as he had to me. 
Meanwhile the Marquis sat with eyes half-closed. 
Once or twice he leaned forward and shot a ques¬ 
tion at Ranald as to a detail, but whether Ranald 
had thought of it or no, his ready wit supplied the 
answer. 

When it was told, the Marquis arose and going 
to the window looked out on the dark street ponder¬ 
ing. Turning, he came back and stood before us. 

" ’Tis a grave risk you propose taking and God 
knows I can ill afford to lose staunch friends. Yet, 
if it succeed, it would lift one of my gravest worries 
from my shoulders. What think you, Sannoch? 
You have not expressed yourself.” 

"I think, sir—nay, I believe, that the plan has 
a good chance of success and that failing, we should 
be able to make good our escape, for barring dis¬ 
covery and capture, if we were to find that con¬ 
ditions were not ripe, it would be foolish to expose 
the plan when we might return to attempt it later 
with greater success.” 

He nodded in agreement as I finished. 

"To be frank,” he said, addressing Ranald, "your 
cousin’s attitude lends me much to the scheme. 

94 



THE PLOT 

■< <<<<< - < •<<<<<<<-<<<<<<<<■<- 

As for Argyll,” and he smiled, "I foresee grave dif¬ 
ficulties there. He would naturally be surrounded 
by a numerous train and hard to approach without 
suspicion. Yet, the very audacity of the plan might 
carry it through. I agree with you that your course 
had best be shaped by circumstance and any im¬ 
portant member of the Estates would serve almost 
as well, such as—Tullibardine or Balcarres. 

"But I cannot see you, Captain, playing the part 
of a drover overwell. Would it not be better to 
stick nearer to your calling, say as a soldier with 
Covenant principles? If so, to gain Edinburgh, 
two courses lie open to you. Either, make straight 
for Stirling and trust to being guided over one of 
the fords there by one whom I can name; or, strike 
across country to the Port of Montrose, seek out 
the Master of the Thistle, a man to be trusted who 
can set you ashore at Berwick, the better to ap¬ 
proach Edinburgh from the south and avoid sus¬ 
picion.” 

Ranald fell in readily with part of the suggestion, 
inasmuch as he retained his commission in the 
Austrian Army and a letter received from Leven 
while he was still in the low countries offering him 
a troop under his command in the Parliamentary 
Army. These would make it easy to pose as a 
soldier of fortune preparing to sell his sword. The 
difficulty, as he pointed out, would be to explain 

95 




THE HIGHLANDER 
< <<<<<<<<<<^<<<<< <■««<■«■«<««««« 

two such obvious Highlanders as Dougal and Rory 
Oig—for that matter, any additional men. It 
might well be that a returning officer would have 
his servant with him—which role I was to play— 
but hardly additional men of his own. And we 
were bound to need assistance to carry off an able- 
bodied man and ride out of Edinburgh with him. 
Besides, if offered a command it would hamper our 
plans and if we went boldly into the city without 
disguise, someone might recognise one or both of us. 

At last we broke up to sleep upon it and in the 
morning we went into conclave again with the 
Marquis and his confidants. It was eventually de¬ 
cided that we should go as originally planned—as 
drovers, by way of Stirling, the better to take our 
horses, which in any event would be needed for a 
quick getaway with the hue and cry at our heels. 
Two Lowland soldiers who knew the country and 
could be trusted were provided to accompany us, 
despite the howl of protest set up by Dougal when 
he heard of it. 

We were provided with a forged pass for one 
Davey Wilson, drover, and three men, to the effect 
that we were to be permitted through the lines, 
having delivered our beasts to Baillies force at 
Dunkeld. To this was attached a careful copy of 
the latter’s signature and an original seal taken 
from papers captured at Dundee. A couple of 

96 



THE PLOT 

««« « «« « ■*«<«<« < 

plain but sound horses were provided for Ranald 
and me and two suits of clothing of the sort com¬ 
paratively well-to-do Lowland herders would wear, 
were packed on a sumpter animal which we led. 
Two useful cut-and-thrust swords replaced the 
highly ornamental weapon which graced Ranald’s 
side and my own basket-hilted broadsword. 

Letting it be known that we were off for 
Sannoch, we left at noon and headed northwest 
towards the Tay. Some miles out of the town, we 
halted to change our clothes—the Highland plaids 
and Ranald’s Continental clothes going on with 
our arms to Sannoch and we bade good-bye to my 
valiant little band. 

That night we bivouacked beside the ruin of a 
deserted farmhouse and in the morning rode boldly 
up to the Stirling Bridge. I, for one, had my heart 
in my mouth and at the last minute would have 
failed to command the effrontery to carry the 
mummery off. But Ranald was quite equal to the 
occasion and in fact seemed to relish his part as the 
loquacious and somewhat inebriated Davey Wilson 
of Berwick, returning with his somewhat stolid 
younger brother from a profitable and adventurous 
journey. 

The officer of the guard scanned our pass and then 
asked us much about conditions to the north, to 
which Ranald spun a fine yarn, telling how Baillie 

97 



THE HIGHLANDER 

^ < < «<■«« «««««<« «««««««< <■<« 

had sent Montrose out of Dundee at the double, 
scurrying back to his hills. All was going well 
enough, and the officer was about to send us on our 
way when, to my horror, Ranald must invite him 
to partake of a morning draught of ale while our 
horses were baited. 

Off we went to the Stirling Arms where in the 
taproom, Ranald now thoroughly fired with zeal 
for his role, like an inspired play-actor, recounted 
our doings in the north—of the skill and general¬ 
ship of the Great Baillie, scoffing meanwhile at 
Montrose in a way that made him appear the veriest 
Covenanter south of the Forth. 

"For,” said he, "these Montrose men are naught 
but a band of bloody robbers, fit only to steal 
cattle and burn the poor husbandmen’s crofts and 
boothies.” And he went off in a long tirade on how 
they ran from Baillie and how he himself would 
have liked to have been at their throats, but that 
he had cattle to deliver and the receipt for their safe 
delivery to cash at Edinburgh. 

Burning hot and cold for fear of a slip which 
would give us away and land us in the Castle, I 
breathed a sigh of relief when at long last we again 
set foot to our stirrups and went forth upon our 
way. 

Remonstrating with him, as we cleared the town, 
I begged him to be more cautious in the future, to 

98 



THE PLOT 

■< < «■<■«« <« < ■<■< <<<<<<< <-<hhhhk-< <■« «««<« 

which he only laughed, asking what better practice 
could we have than on that stupid soldier who was 
far more interested in our gossip and the ale which 
we provided, than our credentials. "Rest assured 
when we get to Edinburgh we will need to know 
our story well, if not before!” 

As if to prove the truth of this prophecy, we 
heard a clatter of hoofs upon the road behind us and 
who should come floundering along on a wind- 
broken nag, arms and legs flopping as he urged the 
poor beast on, but a fanatical looking minister of 
the Kirk, who had dismounted at the inn as we 
were drawing off. 

I knew the breed well from my two years in 
Edinburgh and feared the curiosity into our affairs 
which, true to his cloth, I was sure he would show. 
Lean, round-shouldered and ungainly, with huge 
hands and feet, he was dressed in rusty black which 
emphasised his cadaverous figure. 

He peered at us out of close-set, gimlet eyes over 
a hawk-like beak, his pasty unwashed countenance 
crowned by a shock of startling red hair, which 
stuck out like straw from beneath the brim of his 
hat. 

Drawing abreast of us he drew rein and in a thin, 
nasal voice addressed Ranald. 

"Ah hear yeh frae Reekie, and yeh’ll no mind a 
body ridin’ wi’ yeh, ah ken?” 

99 

> 

> > 


> » > 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< < «< «-<-<-«■« « 

With poorly disguised displeasure, Ranald 
grunted his consent, for there was nothing else 
to do. 

"Ah, mon! The times be terrible wi’ so many 
Godless aboot! An’ a minister o’ th’ Kirk is no safe 
frae the diels. Ye’ll be o’ th’ Established Kirk, ah 
ken?” 

To which Ranald grunted assent with a sidelong 
glance at me. 

"And where were ye frae? Berwick! Ye ha’ no’ 
th’ Berwick-side-tongue, whatever.” 

"Mayhap not,” assented Ranald, "Our mother 
was an English woman which might account for 
it.” 

"Aye, then ye’ll be knowing well, Andrew 
Murchison, th’ minister?” 

"Oh, yes,” answered Ranald incautiously. 

"Aye, ah kenned ye would,” he smirked with a 
knowing look. "Ah! A grand mon was Andie, a 
bra’ pillar o’ th’ kirk!” 

"But your mither noo, being English, would she 
no be of their persuasion and how come ye Pres¬ 
byterians?” 

"No, she was not,” snapped the now thoroughly 
exasperated Ranald. "She had joined our father’s 
church. But in God’s name, have done, for I have 
thoughts of my own to think upon regarding my 
accounts and no care for further questioning!” 

100 



THE PLOT 

^<< < << < <<<<<< < ■<<<<< <<-<<< 

But the zealot could not be put down. Switching 
to other grounds he questioned about the operations 
in the North, meanwhile heaping maledictions upon 
the heads of the traitor Montrose and all the un¬ 
godly Highland Papists who were the tools with 
which he sought to gain his devilish aims of over¬ 
throwing the presbytery. 

"But,” he cried, "the hand of the Lord is 
stretched forth to crush him. Yea, like Israel con¬ 
quered the godless of Canaan, so will they be de¬ 
stroyed—they and their children and on to the last 
beast in their fields. Their crofts will be razed and 
their fields plowed under and the land will stink 
with their blood until the vengeance of the Lord 
is appeased!” 

"Me thinks ’tis a bloody God you serve,” sneered 
Ranald, disgust showing upon his countenance and 
to silence McGilvery’s cant, for such was his name, 
broke into a fast trot which put an end to the 
minister’s tirade, for he was hard put to it to keep 
up with us as he rode along in our wake, well-nigh 
choked with dust. 

But regard for our own cattle compelled us to 
draw rein, whereupon the indomitible minister 
set to questioning our men until, fearful of the 
consequences, Ranald was forced to interrupt and 
tell him to have done, that he was tired of his prying 
into our affairs and would have no more of it. 

101 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<<<■<<■<<■<<■<■<■<■< ««««««« 

McGilvery sulked in silence until we reached 
Carron, where we stopped to rest our horses and 
partake of a meal from our saddle bags. As we 
entered the inn with our rations to secure a tankard 
of ale I saw him whispering with the host, a dour- 
looking individual of his ilk, which disturbed me 
the more as they broke apart at sight of me like two 
who were caught at no good. 

I told Ranald of my apprehension. "Aye,” he 
said, "that fellow could play the very devil with 
us—the snooping, psalm-singing bastard. Yet, ’tis 
my thought that he has no real suspicion of our 
leaning, but like his kind, is forever meddling with 
other people’s business. We will be on our guard 
and give him the slip at the first chance. That nag 
of his can do little more today. If we push on, we 
may leave him and reach Edinburgh well before 
him and lose ourselves in the town.” 

Following the south bank of the Forth, we 
hurried on, telling the disgruntled McGilvery that 
we had to make haste and so leaving him soon be¬ 
hind, we turned sharp to the right and made for 
Linlithgow, where we spent the night, having 
covered some twenty-odd miles that day. Up be¬ 
times, after seeing that our horses had a generous 
feed of corn, we skirted to the north of the Pent- 
land Hills and approached Edinburgh late in the 
evening. 


102 



«-« «« < ■<- < -<- 

CHAPTER VIII 

«««««««« 


Warning 

The Cannon Gate was closed so that we had to 
seek lodging without at the Drovers’ Inn, before 
approaching which we parted from our men, 
bidding them repair to its taproom each night for 
an ostensible dram and await a message from us. 
Meanwhile, they were to find some quiet outlying 
place at which to stable the horses and find quarters 
for themselves, sticking to the tale that they were 
drovers’ men awaiting orders. 

Having made such change in our personal ap¬ 
pearance as our modest baggage permitted, the 
better to throw McGilvery off the scent if he 
really had suspicions, we crowded through the gate 
with the market-folk shortly after dawn and pro¬ 
ceeded to the Castle Inn, passing on the way the 
sombre Tolbooth, where so many of our supporters 
languished in irons. I was for going immediately to 
the Grass-Market where Mr. Alexander Cameron 
lived and frankly disclosing our venture, but 
Ranald would not hear of it. 'Tor,” said he, "his 

103 


i 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<■<■<<-<■<■<■<<■<■<<■<■< <«■< < <-<■«■<■ < <«<< «« «« 

clerks are sure to recognise you and we know not 
their sympathies, no matter how much friend 
Cameron is to be trusted!” 

Bidding me in a loud voice to lay out his good 
clothes, as he would be back anon, he went forth, 
having first cautioned me not to stay at the Inn in 
case we had been followed, but to meet him at the 
Market Cross in two hours. 

Time passed on feet of lead whilst I awaited his 
return. To avoid suspicion as a loiterer I strolled 
about the old town, returning now and again to our 
rendezvous. To make matters worse, it rained dis¬ 
mally and finally, I risked going to the Inn and 
asked if my master had returned or left a message 
for me, expecting every moment to be apprehended 
by the Provost Guard. The long day was drawing 
to a close and dusk shrouded the murky narrow 
streets and still there was no sign of Ranald. I was 
approaching a state of panic, being now certain that 
something had gone amiss and ready to give up in 
despair when someone brushed against my shoulder 
and with a semblance of apology, bade me follow 
at a distance. 

My heart leaped with joy as I recognised Ranald’s 
form enveloped in a cloak and mustering a negligent 
air, I strolled along, stopping as he did to look in 
the tradesmen’s stalls until I saw him step aside 
into the entrance of a Close. 


104 



WARNING 

"What’s amiss?” I asked. 

"Naught, as yet, save for the valour of your 
friend Mr. Cameron,” he chuckled in reply. 
"Thank God, you did not go to him with me. The 
man is blue with fright. He says that his clerks 
would have surely recognised you and might have 
let it slip. Had we stalked boldly into his office I 
am sure the man would have washed his hands of 
us, nor could we blame him much. I serit in word 
that Mr. Davey Wilson of Berwick wished to see 
him on a matter of collection and he came out all 
smiles, rubbing his hands. You should have seen his 
face change when after he had closed the door to 
his privy office and ushered me to a seat, I told him 
that you were in Edinburgh and that we were here 
on Montrose business. I told him little more, for I 
am sure the poor rabbit will have none of it and 
could be of little use in his present state of mind, if 
he would. Nevertheless, he insists that you must 
come to his house. 

"The man would not let me out again in the 
daylight and to humour him I stayed, for to tell you 
the truth, this Edinburgh is a smaller town than I 
expected to see with all the talk there is about it. 
Also, I suspect that our friend McGilvery, who I 
find is a power in the Kirk, with the ear of many in 
the Estates, will start inquiries as soon as he arrives, 
if he is not already here, and I was delayed so long 

105 



THE HIGHLANDER 

««««-«■< <■<■ < ■<■< <■<■<<< <<<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<«« 

arguing with old Cameron that I rather feared to 
attract attention by meeting one who’d been loiter¬ 
ing about the Market Square all day. ’Tis a wonder 
someone did not run into you that you knew; now, 
in Paris or London you could be lost for a year, but 
this place is different. Come, let us go!” 

I told him that I had been to the Inn and they 
apparently had no suspicion of us there, and sug¬ 
gested that we get our baggage, saying that we were 
to stop with friends. 

Ranald pondered upon it for a moment. "No, 
if we had to make a quick getaway we could not 
carry it and it would damn Cameron. We cannot 
risk doing that. The poor fellow would be ruined.” 

Past the Castle we went, under the West Wall, 
and made our way to Mr. Cameron’s house. The 
street was dark and no one was in sight, so we dis¬ 
creetly knocked and almost immediately the door 
was opened, for he had been sitting behind it, 
patiently awaiting our coming. Taking my hand 
with a muttered word of welcome, he led me across 
a passage and opened the door to his outer office, 
which was now empty, all his clerks had long since 
having gone home. We passed upstairs to his 
private quarters where I was greeted effusively by 
Mrs. Cameron, a sweet, apple-faced woman, who 
had done much to make my stay in Edinburgh a 
happy one, for she had watched over me like a 

106 



WARNING 

« < < < <■ < < < < < < < - < < < < < < < < < <- <■ <-<■<-<-<-<<<■<<<<<<<<< < 
mother. Falling upon me with tears, she blurted out 
her joy at seeing me safe and of her fears at my 
coming, until Mr. Cameron bade her have done and 
let the laddie sup. "For,” said he, "you must be 
well-nigh famished,” as indeed I realized when my 
nostrils were assailed by the aroma of the savoury 
stew which awaited us. 

After our meal, he brought a black bottle to the 
table and some pipes and tobacco and we‘prepared 
to talk. 

"Sir,” he said, addressing me, "whatever 
prompted you to do such an audacious thing? 
Surely you realise the risk of recognition!” 

I answered that I had no way of learning if any 
in Edinburgh knew that I had been out. 

"Knew!” he cried. "Knew! Did you not know 
that your name is on the proscribed list? That in 
the eyes of the Estates you are a traitor and your 
lands held forfeit? ’Tis a hanging matter for you, 
laddie, if they discover you. Whatever made you 
do it? Is there not enough trouble already for the 
House of Sannoch?” 

I answered that it was my duty and that in some 
respects I considered the future of Sannoch more 
assured with the crushing pressure of the Camp¬ 
bells removed. 

"Oh,” he said, "I speak not of that, but of your 
coming here! I know not what cracked-brain plan 

107 




THE HIGHLANDER 


< « <<<<<«<« 

you have in mind, saving Captain Mackenzie’s 
presence, nor do I wish to know. Here you must 
stay as long as you are in Edinburgh, though I pray 
you go quickly whilst you can safely. I shall do all 
that I can to protect you for the love we bear you 
and the loyalty which is due your House, but I am 
not a fighting nor conspiring man and I cannot 
enter into your plots.” 

"Good Master Cameron!” interrupted Ranald, 
with a sidelong look at me, "we would indeed do 
poor justice to your hospitality if we did not see the 
reason of that in such perilous times. This slight 
matter which brings us here will be done within 
the next two or three days at most; before we enter 
into it, I assure you that we will leave your house 
and soon be without the walls, so that you and 
yours will be in no way implicated.” 

Nevertheless, Mr. Cameron implored me to give 
up whatever we were about and get clear of the 
town, nor was his urging entirely selfish interest. 
But seeing that we could not be shaken in the at¬ 
tempt, he insisted that we should stay hidden with 
him until we were ready to spring the plan, what¬ 
ever it might be. He asked us if we had created any 
suspicion and we told him of McGilvery, at which 
he shook his head dubiously. The man was in his 
opinion, a canting zealot for the Covenanting 
cause, who would never rest until he had satisfied 

108 



WARNING 

■*K «« < -«<<< < <■«<<< < 

his slightest suspicion. Despite the risk, he agreed 
that it would be best for me to go immediately to 
the inn and get our baggage, saying that we were 
staying with my master’s friends and leaving early 
in the morning for Berwick, thereby, if possible, to 
throw McGilvery off the track. In a casual way I 
was to drop the address of a well-known dealer in 
beef and on my return toss the baggage ^into the 
Nor Loch, for it was unimportant to us and would 
incriminate our host if it were necessary for us to 
make a run for it. 

Borrowing a large hat which hid my visage, 
though indeed there was little fear of being recog¬ 
nised in the poorly lighted streets, I hurried to the 
inn. Drawing near I slackened my pace and saun¬ 
tered in by the taproom door. Someone called for 
the innkeeper and was told by a serving wench that 
he was above. Thinking to meet him there and pay 
our bill with less notoriety, I mounted the back 
stairs unobserved and approached our chamber. As 
I did so, I was arrested by the heavy tread of mine 
host coming up from the front of the house 
and to my horror the high-pitched nasal tones of 
McGilvery accompanied him. 

I was already in a blind passage leading to our 
room and seeing the light coming nearer along the 
wall, I sped in desperation down the passage, and 
softly inserting the key in the lock opened the door 

109 



THE HIGHLANDER 

« « ■ <« ««« 

and slipped in. In a panic I gazed about me. Their 
footsteps were already drawing near. Like a rabbit 
I scuttled across the room and dived under the bed 
just as they opened the door. 

"They no 5 seem so suspecting themselves when 
they leave the key in the lock!” growled our host. 

"Aye,” whined McGilvery, "but ye dinna’ ken 
th’ circumspection o’ the diels. Aye, th’ canny, like 
all the childra’ of Bashan. Drovers, they said they 
were. From Berwick! And good Presbyterians! 
Hum! And what be drovers in sic 5 a hurry for? 
From Berwick! Yet, they ken not that my brother 
be the minister there, good Presbyterians though 
they be! Mind, Fm telling ye! ’Tis the look of 
the soldiery they have aboot them, and if so, they be 
Montrose men or why the disguise?” 

Meanwhile, I could hear him opening our baggage 
and rummaging through it, whilst the landlord held 
his tongue. 

"There’s naething here,” McGilvery said at last. 
"No doubt they’ll be back anon. I’ll to the Provost 
and tell of my suspicion and do ye keep a laddie near 
to send in case they return th’ noo. Th’ guards we 
will place in the house across the street; ’twould be 
rash to have them here, whatever. I, meself, will 
come back and lay wait for them. For they’ll re¬ 
turn, na’ doubt.” 

I heard the door close upon the pair and as their 

110 



WARNING 

•«<<< «<« <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < <<< 

steps receded, I crawled from my lair and stepping 
to the window from which I stood well back, 
watched the lean and menacing figure of McGilvery 
as he passed up the street. The next thing was to 
get away before he returned with the guard. I 
dared not show myself below and looking from the 
window, I saw it was but a short way from the sill 
to the road below. » 

Cautiously I opened the casement wide and 
crawled out. There was no one in sight and most 
of the guests had left, for it was late. Little fearing 
that I would be caught in my egress, I drew the 
casement to behind me and let myself down. 
Stretching to the full length of my arms, my feet 
were within an ell of the cobbles. I dropped softly, 
and scuttling around a corner of the building, 
turned into a lane and hurried on my way. 

Ranald and Mr. Cameron were still sitting up 
waiting for me when I returned and told them what 
had transpired. The latter, poor man, was in a 
terrible state, but nevertheless, insisted that we 
should remain with him. 

The next morning it was still raining and despite 
the pleadings of Mr. Cameron, Ranald went out to 
reconnoitre, though he agreed it it would be fool¬ 
hardy for me to do so. Muffled to the chin in a huge 
cloak with his hat pulled well down over his eyes 
he defied detection, having cut off his moustache 

111 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<*<<<<<<■<■<< < « <- «<■«■« « <«« « ■ < ■ «<« «« 

and with the aid of some pigments which he mixed 
from grease and charcoal and sundry dye which 
Mrs. Cameron brought him, so completely changed 
his countenance that I would hardly have known 
him myself. 

It was a harrowing day for me. I tried to read, 
but for the most I gnawed my fingers and peeped 
furtively into the street. Nor could poor Mrs. 
Cameron, who sought to entertain me between her 
household duties, do aught but think me boorishly 
disinterested in her efforts. 

Late in the afternoon Ranald returned and told 
me of his adventures. Well it was that I had got 
quit of the inn betimes, for he had audaciously 
sauntered by the place and there were two or three 
men loitering across the street. Furthermore, by 
judicious enquiries, he had learned from a hostler 
that McGilvery had spent the night there. 

Hanging about other inns, he learned to his dis¬ 
appointment that Argyll was home in Inverary, 
having posted hence the week before. "Though,” 
added Ranald, "I doubt that we could have touched 
him. This town is so intimate and like a fort that 
it would be impossible to get him out of it alive, 
except by strategy. Such an uproar as we would 
most likely create would arouse the whole town and 
we would be locked in before we could get free of 
the walls. So we dismiss Argyll.” 

112 



WARNING 

««< < < <<<<<<<<<<<<<<< << « ■< 

He had seen Tullibardine and, Ranald laughed, 
he was equally impossible! Why? Because he was 
a great oaf of a man, weighing nigh twenty stone. 
The four of us could not carry him out of the city 
without attracting attention. As for dropping him 
over the walls—that was possible as they were not 
heavily guarded, but how make speed with such a 
weight? If the man did not expire from the exer¬ 
tion, we would be caught before our horses could 
bear him into the hills. No! He was out of the 
question. That left Balcarres, or some other im¬ 
portant member of the Estates. 

Shortly we were called to supper, after which we 
sat over the table telling Mr. Cameron and his 
good wife of the winter’s campaign. Eventually, 
she excused herself and under the suasion of his 
potent spirits and the stirring tale which Ranald 
spun, Mr. Cameron’s caution fell victim to natural 
curiosity and he asked us what it was that we 
plotted in the town. 

While having dismissed all thought of his physi¬ 
cal support, Ranald was convinced of his loyalty 
to Sannoch, and he frankly told him of what we 
had hoped and the disappointments of the day. 
Mr. Cameron shook his head dolefully; his prosaic 
mind could not grasp anything so rash. He was in 
the midst of further remonstrance when we were 
interrupted by a furtive but insistent knocking at 

113 




THE HIGHLANDER 
««««««<■«««««■«■««< « <<<«««< 

the door. For a moment we sat white-faced staring 
at each other across the table. 

It was Mr. Cameron who voiced our thoughts. 
"In God’s name, who can that be?” he whispered. 
"I am unused to visitors this time of night.” 

Ranald rose and reached for our weapons and 
handed me my sword, at the same time sweeping 
up our cloaks and hats. 

"Come,” he said, "to the back door, Cameron. 
Open and see who it is. Meanwhile we will wait in 
your garden. If it is danger, talk in a loud voice that 
we may hear.” 

The little man nodded comprehendingly and 
started down the stairs, whilst we tiptoed after him. 
Meanwhile the light, but hasty tapping continued, 
as if urging those within to hurry. 

We let ourselves out the back door, closing it 
softly behind us and waited in the sodden garden 
in the shadow of a yew. After what seemed like 
an hour, the door opened again and we beheld 
Mr. Cameron, candle in hand, peering about. As 
we stepped forth, he beckoned to us. 

" ’Tis a woman. She insists that you are here 
and that she must see you on a matter of the most 
urgent import.” 

"Does she know our names?” asked Ranald with 
surprise. 

"Aye,” said Mr. Cameron. 

114 



WARNING 

«««« <<<<< <<-<«< « 

''Strange,” thought Ranald aloud. "What is she 
like?” 

"I did not see her face, but from her carriage 
and voice I am certain she's a lady.” 

"Stranger still. Can it be a trap? If so, why send 
a woman and not the Guard. I cannot understand 
it. Do you,” he added, addressing me, "know some 
girl who has seen you in the town? But, even so, 
that would not explain her coming this time of 
night, be she ever so forward a wench! It must 
mean danger! We should be off, yet, we’d better 
see her first.” 

In the passage stood a figure, wrapped in a cape 
from which the water trickled onto the flags. Her 
face was shrouded in the hood, so that we could not 
make her out. Yet, she recognised us, for stepping 
quickly towards us, she threw off the hood, the 
light of the candle gleaming on her pallid face. 

At the motion, we both exclaimed, instantly 
recognising her, for it was the girl whom we had 
saved from Mactavish’s crew at the taking of In¬ 
verary. 

"Captain Mackenzie,” she exclaimed, looking at 
Ranald, "you must away. You are in grave danger! 
You’re discovered and within the hour the Guard 
will be here.” 

"How know you this?” he asked. 

"This evening a gentleman arrived at my father’s 

115 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < < < <<< << < <<< < < << «< 

house from the North and disclosed your plot to 
kidnap the Earl or others high in the Covenant 
Party.” 

"How long ago?” asked Ranald quickly. 

"Less than an hour.” 

"We have not much time,” he remarked. "But 
a gentleman, you say? What did he look like? 
Was it not a hungry looking minister?” 

She shook her head. "No, it was a great dark 
man and he introduced himself to my father as Ian 
Mactavish.” 

"What!” we three exclaimed together. 

"The ungrateful hound!” cried Mr. Cameron. 
"This is how he would repay your father’s kind¬ 
ness. God’s curse upon him!” 

"So,” said Ranald, with a quick glance at Mr. 
Cameron, "I think we shall settle our account with 
Mactavish soon. You’re sure of the name?” he 
asked the girl. 

"Yes,” she answered positively. "I was sewing in 
an alcove unbeknownst to my father when he was 
announced. Thinking that it was but a messenger 
on Government business, I held my place. Im¬ 
mediately he came to the point, telling my father 
that he had deserted the Royalist Cause, so I pricked 
up my ears and listened. He said that word had 
come to him that you and the Laird of Sannoch 
had been sent to Edinburgh by Montrose to kid- 

116 



WARNING 

«« « ■ < ■ < < << <<< <<< < < << < <<<<<<<<<< «<««■«-< 

nap a hostage and that he had ridden hard to fore¬ 
warn us, urging that my father quickly take steps 
to capture you and suggesting that your likely 
hiding place was the house of Mr. Cameron here. 
Immediately I learned the address, I caught up a 
cloak, bidding an old servant that I trust, to tell 
my father that I had retired and to sit up to let 
me in when I returned. Oh, sirs!” she added ap¬ 
pealingly, "do hurry, pray, before it is too late!” 

"Aye,” agreed Ranald. "We may have no time to 
lose, yet there are some things I wish were explained. 
How in the name of ill luck did he know of this 
place? For we told no one, not even the Marquis, 
that we were coming here.” 

"Why strange?” asked Mr. Cameron. " ’Tis here 
the rascal would naturally look first. He knew I 
was Sannoch’s factor—” and turning to me, "he 
came here to sign the bond with your father.” 

"Heh? A bond, say you? How was that?” 
flashed Ranald. 

"Why, the bond for the moneys which Sir John 
lent him to equip his men after the last Campbell 
raid and for the repayment of which he received 
the receipt from David the night that he, poor 
lad, was slain—God!” he cried, grasping Ranald’s 
arm, "do you think—?” 

"Aye,” growled Ranald. "I more than think. I 
have been thinking for a long time, but could not 

117 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<«■« « «««<■ «■ < ««<«« «« «< ■ 

find a pretext. Why, you numbskull/’ he added to 
me, "'did you not tell me of this money? But 
enough of this— You Cameron, open a darkened 
casement and keep an ear without, for if they are 
like most City Guards I know, they’ll come 
golumping down the street. We will dash above 
and make sure that we have left nothing incrimin¬ 
ating about, then we’ll be off. Bide a moment, 
Mistress, ’twill be better to leave by the back way 
and we will see you at least part way home.” 

As we searched the room, Mr. Cameron hurried 
to us, "Quick!” he whispered. "I hear footsteps 
as of a considerable body of men coming down the 

hill!” 

"We are off!” cried Ranald. "Come, Mistress— 
this way—Cameron, God bless you! Out of your 
clothes quickly and into your nightcap! I think you 
have little to fear!” 

Again slipping out the garden entry with the 
girl between us, we groped our way to the low door 
in the wall, fastened it after us, and threw the key 
over again. We were in a narrow lane along which 
ran a high wall on either side and as we turned to 
go, we saw a glimmer of a lantern at the far end, 
accompanied by a murmur of voices. 

With a muffled curse, Ranald drew his sword 
and whipped off his long black cloak, and bidding 
me follow his example, we flattened ourselves 


118 



WARNING 

«««<■«««< <<<<<< <<■«<<<<<<<<<<«.<■<-<-<■<■<■ 

against the wall in a shadow and held the cloak 
across us. 

"Make sure of a man, laddie, for if we put two 
down, it will add to the surprise and retard them!” 

I thought the moment would never come. I 
ground my teeth till my jaws ached, watching that 
light approach, hardly daring to breath. All the 
time, I was dimly conscious of the girl pressed to 
my side and I offered a hasty prayer that no harm 
would come to her. 

"Ready!” whispered Ranald. I felt him lean 
forward, bracing himself. 

"Now!” 

He whisked the cloak aside and with a bound 
we were upon them. Before he could raise the 
staff of his pike to guard his head, I struck one 
down. A curse, a groan, the clatter of arms, some¬ 
one dropped the lanthorn and we were through, 
dashing up the lane for all we were worth. The 
girl was in front, running like a deer, whilst Ranald 
pounded along in my wake. 

There were but six of them and two were down, 
yet their warning shouts would quickly bring 
others from the stronger body, hammering upon 
the front of the house. 

"To the left!” cried Ranald, as we neared the 
mouth of the lane and wheeling about, he fired one 
of his pistols into the mass of our pursuers. That 

119 



THE HIGHLANDER 

«<« « ■«««««■ < ■ « ««■««« « ■< « « «< « 

stopped them momentarily and we sped up the 
street. 

A dog ran out snarling and snapping at our 
heels, until I sent him scuttling for cover with a 
cut of my sword. Windows opened in our wake. 
By now, the whole Grass Market was aroused. We 
doubled back on another street, turning again to 
the left into a noisome alley where we stood gasp¬ 
ing for breath. 

A moment later our pursuers thundered by and 
Ranald laughed softly. 

"For the moment we are safe/’ he said. "And 
now, Mistress, where do you live?’’ 

She indicated a house in back of St. Giles, a good 
half mile from where we were. 

"Good,” he replied. "The chase leads now in 
the other direction and we will see you safely 
there.” 

"No,” she. answered determinedly, "they will 
soon come back and the search will be town wide 
for you. Cannot you get over the wall some way 
and make off before dawn?” 

"Aye, perhaps we could. Still I have a mind not 
to leave yet, not knowing what plight we leave 
poor Cameron in. I thought to get away without 
harm to him, but now with the fight right back 
of his house, they would be dull indeed not to be 
confident of his complicity. Besides, I think we 

120 



WARNING 

^ <<< < -<^< <<<<<<<<<<<-<-< < <<<«■< < •« <<-<-<■ 

are safer here for a few days than we would be 
on the countryside, for we could not reach our 
horses until tomorrow night.” 

Silently we stood for a moment taking account 
of our plight and then she spoke again. 

"Come,” she said. "Little did I think that I 
would protect the enemies of my house, yet, I 
cannot forget the plight from which you saved 
me. There is an unused stable in back where you 
would be safe at least for the night, and I can get 
food to you. Certain they will not look for you 
there.” 

"Tell us,” I asked, "what is your house?” 

"I am Ellen Campbell, the daughter of Camp¬ 
bell of Ardchatten,” she said proudly, and Ranald 
whistled. 

"Lady,” he added, bending over her hand, "I 
have seen some noble things done in my time and 
ignoble ones too, but there is nothing finer that 
I know of than that you should do this for us. 
Your debt of Inverary is already paid.” 

Having regained our wind, we made haste to 
quit the vicinity, scuttling in one alley and out the 
next until we arrived in the neighbourhood of St. 
Giles, as the Tolbooth clock clanged forth the hour 
of two. Twice we dived into doorways to stand 
with bated breath while a party of the watch hur¬ 
ried past. Eventually, we reached our destination 

121 



THE HIGHLANDER 
«<<<<<<<<<<-<<■<■<-<■<<■<-<■<<<■< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

and bidding us wait by a stable door, the girl dis¬ 
appeared around the corner of the building. A 
few minutes later a rusty key grated in the lock 
and she beckoned us to come in whilst an ancient 
serving woman, utterly unconcerned of our pres¬ 
ence, remonstrated with Ellen for her foolishness. 

Groping about in the dark, we found a ladder 
and climbed up into the mow where she warned 
us to stay against her coming. Digging a hole in 
the straw, well away from the ladder, we settled 
back to rest, lulled by the patter of the rain upon 
the slates above our heads. 

"Well,” mused Ranald, "we’re in a pretty mess, 
I vow! But I have known worse and got out of 
them and I think we will again. There is one 
thing greatly in our favour. Aside from those at 
the inn, Mactavish and that damned minister 
McGilvery, there is none who knows what we 
look like. And Ardchatten’s daughter saved us— 
’tis a strange world. The luck of the devil is with 
us. Good night, laddie!” And soon the hardened 
rascal’s steady breathing told me that he slept. 

I could not drive the thought of Mactavish 
from my mind. Cameron’s disclosure was food 
for thought. If he had paid back the loan that 
I had not known of to David and then waylaid 
him on the way home, there was ample explanation 
of his desire to rid the world of me. 


122 



WARNING 

•<*<<<<■<■<<<< < < < ■ < <<<<<<■<■<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

A cat yowled in the alley. Someone opened a 
window and hurled a missile at the miscreant. 
Rats squeaked and rustled in the straw and the 
tramp, tramp of the watch went by. Then silence 
again and I followed Ranald’s lead. 


123 



«««■«« « <■ 

CHAPTER IX 


The Flight from Auld Reekie 

I was awakened by a most aggravating tickling 
on my nose. Brushing my hand fretfully across 
my face, I heard a giggle of amusement as slowly 
I came back to consciousness. 

"Damn!” I said, sitting up and brushing the 
straw from my eyes, then I beheld Ellen squatting 
by me with the amused Ranald at her side. 

"Good morning to you, Master Sleepy Head!” 
she laughed. And the music of it was like the 
tinkle of distant bells upon a mountain side. "Is 
that the way you greet a lass that brings you 
breakfast? And would you sleep away the day 
with half the town already searched for you?” 

I stammered my apologies, looking at her in un¬ 
abashed admiration. It was the first time I had 
an opportunity to look at the girl with undivided 
attention and I was amazed by her loveliness as 
she sat there, a halo of moted sunlight shining upon 
her head through a tiny window set high in the 
wall of the loft. She was of more than average size 

124 




FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 

< ««« -<««« < «4 <«««««««««:<«■«: 

and finely made. Her complexion was like peach- 
bloom, a characteristic of our young Highland 
lassies, and she gazed at me out of wide-set laugh¬ 
ing hazel eyes that scintillated with fire. Her hair 
of a reddish golden hue was parted in the middle of 
her broad low brow and braided in two heavy plaits 
which emphasised the symmetry of her counte¬ 
nance. At my steady look, she dropped her eyes 
and an adorable blush mounted her throat and 
cheeks. 

"Here is a bowl of porrich and a hot bannock,” 
she said and sat watching us like an interested 
child as we broke our fast. 

"Tell me,” she asked as we finished, "who is this 
Mactavish?” 

"An enemy of my house,” I replied. "One who 
would apparently go to any extreme to do away 
with me. One whom we suspect of my brother’s 
murder and who has already made two attempts 
upon my life. And when we meet again the matter 
must be settled for all time!” 

"And furthermore, Mistress Ellen, he is the 
leader of the band of ruffians who attacked you at 
Inverary!” added Ranald. 

"They were his men!” she exclaimed, a look of 
horror passing over her face. "And he has the 
effrontery to come to my father’s house! Oh, 
sirs!” she added, "you must have thought me 

125 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<^<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<-< «■ «■ « ««««««« 

churlish indeed to skip off and leave you so, fight¬ 
ing for your lives in my defense, with never a word 
of thanks. But, indeed, how else could I help 
you? And the only key to your identity was in 
the one word 'Sannoch’ which you cried at the 
onset. 

"After giving the alarm to the soldiers in the 
Square, I fled to the house of friends with whom 
I later reached the Castle, and there through en¬ 
quiry I eventually found out who my saviours were, 
but by then you had gone north. Had it not been 
for that, I would never have associated you with the 
men that Mactavish denounced to my father. 

"And coming to that, you must make a bargain 
with me. I am a Campbell, you are my father’s 
enemies and therefore mine. I cannot succour 
you, nor will I help you one bit more, unless you 
promise me on your honour to drop this plot against 
us and to refrain from any further action until 
you regain your Army.” 

"Lady,” said Ranald, "let me answer for my 
kinsman and myself. We would be of poor stuff 
indeed if we did not accede to your demand, as 
indeed we must, for it would be absurd to think 
that we could kidnap anyone with the whole town 
forewarned against us. This I will say on my 
honour, that we will not touch hand to weapon 
against any one on the Covenant side until we are 

126 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
^<< <<< < <<<<<< <<<< <<<<<<<<<< <-<<< 

north of the Forth—save in defense of our own 
lives. No more can you expect of us than that— 
nor less!” 

"I am satisfied,” she said simply, "and now I 
must go, for I have been here over long as it is. 
Lie close and I will contrive to return later in the 
day and tell you what transpires without.” 

That day was one of the longest which I have 
ever spent. The hot spring sun beating down upon 
the slates over our heads made the loft well-nigh un¬ 
bearable and we dared not converse above a whis¬ 
per or show ourselves for fear that some servant 
of the house would see us. 

We discussed our predicament at length and 
agreed that it was useless to plan the next move 
until we knew how the land lay. The conversation 
came around again to Mactavish and the disclosure 
of Mr. Cameron regarding the loan, of which I 
had known nothing. Strange as it seemed, I had 
not heard of it, for it will be remembered that 
for two years prior to my father’s death I had 
been in Edinburgh with the Camerons, and it 
was during this period that the debt was incurred. 
It was more than possible that my father had not 
wished to tell of another’s embarrassment and 
Mr. Cameron, lawyerlike, would naturally keep 
his own counsel. Then came the sudden death of 
my father and David’s ascendance to the estate. 

127 



THE HIGHLANDER 

« ««■«■<« <- < -<-<-<-<■< <<<< < << <<< < < X<<<<<<<<<<< 

"No doubt,” Ranald suggested, "he had called 
upon Mactavish to pay when the money was due 
and went to his tower to collect it then on his 
way home was foully murdered to regain the sum, 
the villains knowing full well that it would be 
attributed to a raiding party of the Campbells.” 

"Aye, and then came Dougal’s letter bidding 
me return to take up my untimely inheritance. 
So there was little wonder that I did not suspect 
Mactavish and never would have were it not for 
succeeding events.” 

Could it be, that vicious as he was, he had com¬ 
mitted this heinous crime? Yet, how else explain 
his bitter hatred of me, except that his guilty con¬ 
science might have prompted him to get me out 
of the way for fear that someday his crime would 
be discovered and that I would seek revenge. 

It was evening before Ellen managed to return 
to the stable with additional food. One look at her 
face was sufficient to tell us that she was in great 
fear. Bidding us eat, for we were well-nigh fam¬ 
ished, she launched forth upon the happenings of 
the day. Mr. Cameron, poor man, had been seized 
as we anticipated and questioned closely by her 
father. He had divulged nothing and though not 
believed, clung stoutly to his tale that he had not 
seen nor heard from us. He had been lodged in 
gaol and meanwhile his house had been ransacked 

128 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
«« < <<<<<<<<<<<< < <<<<< << <-<- « -« «« <«■«■<-<■ 

without revealing any sign of our visit, thanks 
to Ranald’s forethought. There was apparently one 
thing in his favour, slight as it was; the fact that 
we had put up at the inn and left our luggage 
there, which could be construed that we were but 
going to him when intercepted near his house 
and had since the brawl got out of the city. 

Meanwhile, Mactavish, with the zeal of the con¬ 
vert for a new cause and fired by his vindictive 
hatred, whipped on the search, being confident 
that we were still there. McGilvery, who knowing 
naught of the real aim of our plot or of my associa¬ 
tion with Cameron until our discovery, had been 
noisily carrying on a search from the Provost’s 
office. Putting two and two together, he had come 
to the conclusion that the drover, Davey Wilson, 
and his brother, and the Royalist plotters de¬ 
nounced by Mactavish, were one and the same 
party. 

Jealous of this interference with his own cher¬ 
ished plans for our apprehension, he ran about 
offering advice, getting in every one’s way. At the 
very moment, he was closeted with Mactavish, 
Ardchatten and some of the city officials, urging 
that Mactavish be dispatched north with a war¬ 
rant for our arrest, in case we had won free from 
the city and were making for Sannoch. 

For himself, he asked a pass so as to continue the 

129 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<*<<<<<<<<<<-<-<<<<<<<-<■< < < <<<<<< 

search without the gates, for remembering that we 
had been a party of four, while but two arrived at 
the inn, he correctly surmised that we had left our 
men and horses without. 

"When learned you this?” asked Ranald, in¬ 
terrupting the girl’s story. 

"But half an hour since,” she replied. 

"That’s our cue,” said Ranald. "I see we must 
away, for if he searches well,—and I make no 
doubt he will—our men will be found, and without 
horses the game’s up!” 

"What would you do?” the girl asked almost 
tearfully. "I can see no way for you. The walls 
are now doubly guarded and even of my father 
I am fearful. He noticed that I am perturbed and 
recalled that it was you that rescued me at Inverary. 
He has not disclosed that to Mactavish for some 
reason, keeping his own counsel. Yet, I dare not 
confess my complicity in your hiding. He is a 
Campbell and he cannot forget what we have 
suffered at the hands of your Marquis. If you 
were his own son, he would turn you over to the 
Covenant, yet in his heart I know not if he would 
wish you caught. 

"This noon he suddenly shot a question at me 
as I sat gazing disconsolately at my plate. 'Daugh¬ 
ter, know you anything of this Sannoch and his 
whereabouts?’ I stammered a denial and he looked 

130 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
^<< <<<< ^<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

at me long and searchingly. 'Do not forget/ he 
added, 'that what he did for you was the duty 
of a Highland gentleman. It has nothing to do 
with his military duty, or the harm which he and 
his have done our cause. It comes to me that this 
Sannoch led Montrose’s army into Argyllshire 
and you know with what results/ You see/’ she 
added, with a gesture of futility, "I know not what 
to do. The blood of my kinsmen is on your hands, 
yet you saved me from the worst a maid may fear!” 

"Ellen,” I said, "we’re going now. We cannot 
suffer you to take more risk for us and the sooner 
we are off the better for us, too. How we’ll get 
out I know not, but I have faith in this wily 
cousin of mine. Do one more thing for me when 
we are gone: come what may, brave your father’s 
wrath for the sake of an innocent man and tell 
him the truth about poor Mr. Cameron. Tell him 
on my honour that he had no part in our plot 
and but sought to make us desist and leave the 
town. I swear to you that this is the truth—and 
tell Ardchatten this for me—that out of the de¬ 
votion I owe his daughter, come what may, I 
shall never raise arms against one who wears the 
Campbell tartan, except in self-defense. Montrose 
is gallant and, when I tell him the reason, will place 
us elsewhere on the line. So far as Sannoch is con¬ 
cerned, the ancient grudge is buried.” 

131 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<<<<<< < ««« 

"I believe you,” she said in a husky voice, and I 
could see her eyes glowing in the dusk. "God keep 
you, Sannoch! Your promise may bring the dawn 
of peace in that unhappy land along our marches.” 

I looked into her lovely eyes and forgot my 
companion; forgot that she was a Campbell and I 
of an enemy clan. Ellen had haunted my brain 
ever since that night at Inverary—wondering who 
and where she was. Now that I had found her, we 
were going our separate ways and I would prob¬ 
ably never see her again. A strange longing swept 
over me to take her in my arms—I wanted this 
maid, Campbell or no, for my own. 

I have wondered since what prompted me to 
act as I did; I was not given like Ranald to bussing 
every likely lass I saw. Perhaps it was the life we 
led; I was rapidly learning to take what I wanted. 
Perhaps it was a challenge in her eyes. I stretched 
out my arms and drew her to me, the perfume of 
her hair in my nostrils, and held her, my lips 
seeking hers. For one all too fleeting moment she 
stood thus in my arms, her warm body against 
mine, returning my embrace and kiss. Then 
wrenching herself free with a little catch of the 
breath she held me off. 

"We may be mad, but I’m glad you did that, 
laddie!” she said, her face aflame. "Now come, 
you must hasten, the watch has just gone by.” 

132 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
*<«<-<««< < <<< <<<- < <<<<<<<<■ <-<-<-<-< <<< 

Following Ranald down the ladder, she held 
forth her hand to him and he bent over it gallantly. 

"Mistress,” he said, "Sannoch’s loyalty is mine; 
we Mackenzies are far removed from Argyll and 
have no feud with your clan—so on that score 
you may add my promise to his, for I am his 
adopted Dhonnie-Wassel.” 

"God keep you both!” she whispered again. "I 
shall pray for you—always.” And as she shut the 
little door behind us, I heard the patter of her feet 
as she hurried away. 

"Come!” said Ranald, nor did he ever allude to 
that moment sacred to me, when we stood in the 
mow. 

Loosening his sword in its sheath, he started hur¬ 
riedly away. There was a faint glow in the western 
sky as we wended our way through the dark streets. 

"Where are we making for?” I asked, when at 
last I had driven the thought of Ellen from my 
mind. 

"To the abode of friend McGilvery,” said the 
imperturbable Ranald. 

"What?” I gasped. "What do we there, in God’s 
name? 

"Why, wait for him and thank him for a cer¬ 
tain pass issued by Ardchatten permitting him to 
leave the proud city of Edinburgh. Incidentally, 
when one is pursued the safest hiding place is close 

133 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<■<<<<<■<-<<<■<<<<<<<<<<< << <<<<<<<<< 

to the gaol. I doubt that they would look for us 
in the chambers of that zealous Covenanter, within 
but a stone’s throw of the Tolbooth!” 

"Are you sure of where it is?” I asked. 

"Certain sure,” he said, "it’s two flights up on 
the left in Weir’s Close. I learned that yesterday. 
If he is not there and has no servant, we must wait 
on the stairs, which will be risky. If there is a 
servant and we gain entrance, he must be handled 
silently, so be ready. There can be no mistake 
in this, laddie. It’s our last card. Again, the 
minister may have got there before us, which I 
hope he hasn’t. He may even have been and gone, 
or he may come with several others and we will 
have to wait and pray that they leave before him. 
A hundred things may happen, so use your wits!” 

We turned into the entrance of the Close and 
mounted a narrow winding stairs to the left. As we 
reached the second floor we noticed a gleam of 
light beneath the door. 

Ranald knocked and stood ready, his hand be¬ 
neath his cloak. 

"Who’s there?” growled a voice within. 

"A message from the Provost for Mr. McGil- 
very,” promptly answered Ranald. 

" ’Tis the floor above,” answered the voice. "In 
God : s name, canna’ a body have any peace. Mes¬ 
sengers! ’Tis naethin’ but messengers, the dee long! 

134 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 

<<T<T<<<<<<<«<< « « « «<««« « << < <<<<<<<< 

Rap loud, for the auld troll is as deef as a post!” 

Thanking our unseen director, we mounted the 
stairs. 

"The first mistake,” said Ranald. "But there’s 
luck in it. ’Tis a woman he has for a servant. Ap¬ 
parently he is out. She is deaf, so will probably 
open the readier to hear as there have been a lot of 
messengers. So, we try again!” 

Pounding upon the door, fit to wake the dead, our 
ears were rewarded by the sound of shuffling feet 
within. 

"Aye,” said a squeaky voice. 

"Open!” demanded Ranald. "A message for 
McGilvery!” 

We heard a bolt loosed and the door swung 
open. The ancient slattern who answered for the 
minister’s servant held out a grimy hand. 

"You canna’!” she snapped, as Ranald set his 
foot in the door. She sought to close it, but his 
long arm shot out, stifling a scream in her gullet 
ere she made a sound. 

"Quick!” he whispered. "Fasten the door!” 

Fortunately the old wretch was barefooted or 
her kicking and stamping might have aroused those 
below. 

"Find something to gag her with. If I hold the 
hell-cat this way much longer I shall throttle her!” 

I found an old cloak which I tore into strips, 

135 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<««««««« 

first stopping her mouth with a piece, then binding 
her hands and feet, we carried her into an adjoining 
room and laid her on the minister’s bed. 

“Now, let’s see,” said Ranald, looking about. 
“What’s to do next? For we may have little time. 
Something stronger to bind the minister. Ah! 
These will do excellently well,” picking up some 
harness straps in a corner. “Now, a gag! An¬ 
other piece of that cloak will serve. One candle 
in the far corner will do, the better for defense 
if he comes with company.” 

He gazed about the room again, his mind work¬ 
ing like the perfect engine it was. 

“We need pen and ink. A minister should have 
that! Yes, here it is, and now I wonder if McGil- 
very has a pair of shears? Ah well, no matter, your 
dirk will serve. Now, while I sit down here, be 
good enough to cut off my locks. Don’t worry 
about appearance. Just so they will not show 
under my hat!” 

“In God’s name, what is this for?” I asked. 

“Wait, and you will see. I make this sacrifice in 
part for you! Now, while we wait, I would sug¬ 
gest that we sample of this stew; it smells savoury 
despite the slut who made it and the Lord knows 
when we will sup again!” 

But I shook my head. I could not have swallowed 
food at the moment had my life depended upon 

136 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
<««■«■«« «< <« < < <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

it. I went back to look at the old woman and 
whispered in her ear that we meant her no harm 
and she had nothing to fear, but she only stared 
at me, wild-eyed with fright. So I examined her 
bonds and rejoined Ranald, who sat at the table 
with a bottle of wine. I did manage to gulp down 
a cup of that, when my interest in it was arrested 
by the sound of steps upon the stairs. Ranald 
pointed to a position behind the door, which I took. 
The steps reached the landing and hesitated with¬ 
out, and then came a lusty rapping. Ranald did 
not answer, but dirk in hand stood in the centre of 
the room. His eyes were two glints of steel be¬ 
tween half-closed lids. 

Again, the rapping louder than before, then 
came the nasal twanging of McGilvery. 

"Moll! Ye auld tawpy! Open the door, do ye 
hear!” 

Ranald scuffled across the room and slowly slid 
back the bolt, just as the old woman had done for 
us, keeping his presence behind it as it slowly gave 
way. McGilvery roughly thrust it open. 

"You—” he started and the words froze upon 
his lips, for the point of Ranald’s dirk was at his 
throat, whilst with the other hand he grasped the 
minister by the collar of his coat. 

"One sound,” he whispered, "and you are a 
corpse!” 


137 




THE HIGHLANDER 

«-<■«■<■«■««««■<:< < < <:««<« 

I closed and bolted the door and turned to look 
at our captive. His pasty face was as white as the 
dirty linen at his neck, down which ran a trickle 
of blood where Ranald’s menacing dirk had stung 
him. I brought the straps and the gag, but the man 
was trying to command himself and turned his 
head sideways to avoid the cloth. Swallowing hard, 
he at last managed to speak. 

"Ye durst not do it,” he gasped. "Ye’ll hang 
for it!” 

"Have done your chatter!” growled Ranald, 
grasping his neck for fear he would cry out. "Open 
your mouth, you canting son of a bitch!” and with 
that he dug the point of his dirk between his teeth. 
The minister wilted, for he knew that he was 
confronted by determined men and I stuffed the 
gag between his bleeding lips. 

"That’s better!” said Ranald. "Now off with 
his clothes for I need that rusty black.” Stripping 
him to his shirt and drawers, we bound him hand 
and foot to a heavy chair. He sat gazing balefully 
at us as Ranald took off his own garments and put 
on the minister’s. 

"Now, let’s look at his pass,” said Ranald, when 
he was clothed again. "Hm, for one: 'Permit Mr. 
McGilvery, pastor of St. Cuthbert’s, to pass at will 
through the Cannon Gate, signed Campbell of 
Ardchatten and David Leslie.’ They make doubly 

138 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
««■ «« «« <<<<<<<<<•«<< < 

sure. Well, we will mend that!” and with a few 
deft strokes of the pen, he added in much the same 
hand—'"with his servant.” 

"Now,” he said, having carefully sanded his 
forgery, "just a few of your locks, Mr. McGilvery. 
I had rather you wear them than I, but needs must 
when the devil drives!” 

With that he proceeded to shear off the minister’s 
scraggly red locks close to his pate. "I have looked all 
over for the sealing wax. Hello, what’s this? Hum, 
well, I shall take that too,” he said with a laugh, 
stuffing a paper into his pocket. "Now for the 
wax! Well, these old seals will serve!” and pulling 
one off a parchment, he melted it in the candle and 
proceeded to stick the minister’s hair to the in¬ 
side of his hat. With my assistance he got it on 
and despite our peril, I could not help but laugh 
as with the minister’s long cloak concealing his 
sword and with his Bible under his arm, Ranald 
walked loose-jointedly across the room, for all the 
world like the preacher. 

We looked once more to his bonds and at the 
old woman on the bed and setting the big chair in 
a corner, placed a settle against it so that he could 
not knock it over, with himself in it, to draw atten¬ 
tion from below. Then blowing out the candle, 
we locked the door behind us and hurried out. 

We walked briskly to the Cannon Gate, Ranald 

13 9 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

aping the minister’s gait, where a sergeant stopped 
us. "I’m Minister McGilvery,” whined the im¬ 
poster, in a perfect imitation of his lowland twang. 
"Ah have here a pass for the gillie and me’self 
frae the Lord Provost an’ I’m in a bra’ hurry— 
for it’s on government business frae the Estates I 
am. 

The officer who had come from the guard house, 
evidently had little use for ministers of the kirk 
and their kind, for looking closely at the pass, un¬ 
der the lanthorn held aloft by the sergeant, he 
simply said, "Pass them!” with a sharp glance at 
the supposed minister and returned to the guard- 
room. Being afoot, a postern in the ponderous 
gates was opened and as the door slammed shut be¬ 
hind us, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Increasing our pace, we hurried to the Drovers’ 
Inn, where we had bidden our men await, pray¬ 
ing that they would still be there, though it still 
lacked something of ten o’clock. Leaving Ranald 
standing in the shadow, for we feared to test his 
disguise in the light of the taproom, I went in and 
looking about, to my joy saw them sitting in a 
corner. Catching the eye of one of the men, I 
nodded towards the door and ordered a tankard 
of beer, which I sat drinking until they had paid 
their score and sauntered out. Waiting a moment, 
to avoid suspicion, although I was screaming in- 

140 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
«««■<■««« 

wardly to run after them, I too left and found 
them down the street talking to Ranald. 

"Thank God, you have come, sir,” one of them 
was saying as I came up, "for we could not have 
stood the strain much longer. It is three days since 
we saw you and word slipped out today that a plot 
had been uncovered in the town and that they 
were searching high and low for the culprits. 
Jock and I decided to wait until tonight and if no 
word came from you, to cut and run for it, for 
two strangers could not hang about here spending 
money every night in a tavern without arousing 
suspicion. In fact, to tell you the truth, the horses 
are already saddled in the stable of a farm house 
a mile from here.” 

"Come on, then. We may have all night, or not a 
minute to lose, but I would put as much distance 
between us and Reekie as we can before dawn!” 

We hurried up the road, half walking and half 
running, for it was quite deserted and time was 
too precious to waste. Reaching the farm house, a 
dog barked and the farmer opened a window to ask 
querulously why they did not come home be¬ 
times o’ night? 

"Our master has just come,” answered Jock 
readily, "and we must be off at once, so come out 
that we may settle our score.” 

"I like it not,” he said, "this coming and going 

141 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<■<<■<<<<<<««««■ 

o’ nicht. It’s very mysterious and I am glad you’re 
going.” 

"Well,” said Ranald with a show of confidence, 
"if you must know, we are not what we seem, but 
on government business, so hold your tongue and 
here are two crowns for your trouble!” 

Just then we heard a clatter of hooves on the 
road. 

"Out with that lanthorn,” cried Ranald, seizing 
it from the astonished farmer’s hand and dousing 
it, while the two soldiers, good troopers that they 
were, sprang to the nags’ heads. A detachment of 
horse came thundering by as though the devil him¬ 
self were after them. The rapid tattoo of their 
hooves melting into the distance. 

"What road is that?.” asked Ranald. 

"The Stirling road,” replied the farmer. 

"Is there no shorter route?” 

"Aye, shorter, but ’tis a broken track and will 
take you longer. ’Tis by way of Falkirk, passing 
to the left of Linlithgow. You’ll see the signpost 
about two miles on from here.” 

As we rode out of the yard Ranald said, "That 
fellow can do us little harm now, for we should be 
over the worst of the road by dawn. For the 
moment we are safer in their wake than anywhere 
else.” 

We proceeded boldly after our pursuers at a 

142 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
« « «« «««■ <<<<<<<<<<<<<<-<-<-<-<-<■<■<< ««« 

sharp trot, the sooner to get off the main road. 
Coming to the signpost, Jock dismounted to ex¬ 
amine the path which bore to the left. There 
were no fresh horse tracks on it, which proved that 
our pursuers had passed on. Swinging our horses 
off the main road into a field, we paralleled the 
track for several hundred yards, so as to leave no 
trace of our turning. The path was as the farmer 
had predicted, rough and winding. At first we 
proceeded at a walk to spare the horses, but since 
the night was clear—a waning moon shed its dim 
radiance above the hills—we presently made better 
progress, trotting at a good pace where it per¬ 
mitted. 

We were now in a gently rolling farmland of 
low hills and broad valleys, thickly interspersed 
with little farms and copse and broken by many 
walls dividing the fields and pastures. It was a 
country affording little concealment and we were 
anxious to cover as much of it as possible before 
dawn, with which approached a heavy fog rolling 
in from the Forth somewhere on our left. We had 
been in the saddle some six hours and figured that 
we had done some eighteen miles since leaving 
the town. 

Drawing off the path, we loosened the girths and 
Jock, who had providently brought along a bag 
of corn, distributed a generous pile before each 

143 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<< < <<<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

horse. Luke had in his saddle bags a part of a 
cheese and some bread which we munched while 
we took stock of our position. 

Ranald was of the opinion that we had left 
Linlithgow some two miles to the rear upon our 
right and that we were less than five from Falkirk. 
The horses refreshed by their feed and rest, we 
pushed on, riding cautiously and feeling our way 
through the fog which enveloped us. Suddenly 
Jock, who was ahead, held up his hand. We stopped 
and the faint jingle of equipment smote our ears. 
Luke’s horse started to nicker and with a muttered 
curse, he yanked its head up. Out of the fog an 
unseen horse whinnied and with startling nearness 
a commanding voice said, 

"There’s something there— Ride forward to 
the left!” 

Horse steps as of a strong patrol approached 
over the sodden turf. Something loomed indis¬ 
tinctly through the mist. I reached for my sword 
when Luke, with a restraining gesture, pointed. 
By degrees I made out a herd of a dozen fat Angus 
cattle which, disturbed at their morning grazing, 
were moving between us and the enemy. Then 
as one of the beasts turned to look back placidly over 
its shoulder, I heard a laugh and someone said, 
" ’Tis naught but a herd of cattle; I tell you our 
quarry has passed here long since!” and as the 

144 





FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
<<<<<<<-<<<<<< < ■ < -<<<<<<<<< 

voices receded in the fog, we turned our horses 
and quietly made off, paralleling the friendly 
cattle. 

“Whew,” said Jock. “Mon dear, that was a close 
shave! One more like that and me mither’ll have 
a white-haired boy! What’s to do now?” 

“The sun will be well up in an hour,” said Ranald. 
“We must find cover before then. Let us beat more 
to the left where the ground looks higher, for we 
may find a woods.” 

Now thoroughly confused as to our direction, 
we wandered about until we saw the dark outline 
of trees loom before us. We plunged into a patch 
of woods leading our horses to what we thought 
was safety, but we soon came out on the other side. 

“This won’t do,” said my cousin, “if they are 
really industrious, they will search every such bit to¬ 
day, having failed to get wind of us on the road. On 
the other hand, they may simply concentrate their 
watch for us near Stirling along the Highland road 
and at the fords and ferries of the Upper Forth. 
There’s no telling. Ride out, Luke, to the left a 
hundred rods or so and see what you can.” In a few 
minutes Luke returned at a gallop. 

“Captain, there is a great low moor above us, and 
under the high part a mile or so away is a deserted 
and ruined croft, but I make no doubt it will be 
big enough to conceal our horses and ourselves 

145 




THE HIGHLANDER 
««« <■ < <<<<<<<< < 

within. From it we could command the approach 
for miles around.” 

“Aye,” agreed Ranald. “While here, they would 
be on us before we had a hundred yards start. 
Come!” 

The hot April sun had burned the fog off the 
moor, but the low ground from whence we had 
come was still enveloped. Praying that it would not 
melt away or that any shepherd would see us before 
we reached our goal, we sped over the moor to the 
best ability of our tired horses. Reaching the ruin, 
we found it much as Luke had described. The 
thatch roof had long since gone, but the four walls 
were standing and leading our horses inside, we 
took off the saddles and rubbed their backs. The 
mist was receding rapidly and it soon disclosed the 
highroad, a thin ribbon winding along to the north¬ 
west, upon which we observed a cavalry patrol, no 
doubt the same one which we had so fortunately 
missed. 

A guard was set to lie in the heather above the 
croft where one could see to the rear as well as in 
front, although we had little fear that anyone 
would approach us from across the moor but a 
wandering shepherd who might give the alarm. The 
lot fell to me, so the others went inside to sleep. 

The hot sun beat down upon me with a beneficent 
warmth and bees droned busily in the heather. 

146 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
<<<<<<^< << < < < -<<<< << <-<<<<<< <■<<<<<<<<<■<■<<■< - <-<• 

Once I saw a shepherd with his collie upon a distant 
brae, and occasionally someone passed along the road 
below. To the left was the thin woods through 
which we had come and over the top of it I could 
look down into the field where those blessed Black 
Angus cattle were lying, digesting their morning 
meal, whilst far away a sheen of silver disclosed the 
broad waters of the Forth. 

Ranald relieved me in two hours and after I had 
napped, we held a council, sharing Ranald’s pipe 
as I have since seen the red men do in America. It 
was obvious that we should lie there until nightfall, 
unless disturbed, thereby giving the horses the 
fullest rest. Then we could move forward quietly 
towards the Forth, abandon our horses and seek a 
wherry to row across to the Clackmannan side. 
Failing that, or if surprised, we would endeavour 
to turn west, keeping well to the south of Stirling 
and try if necessary to cut our way through to the 
hills of Buchanan, where we would be on friendly 
ground and safe from our pursuers. 

Said Luke, "I have no doubt that they will have 
collected all of the boats along the upper reaches of 
the Forth estuary, but I have a cousin who lives near 
the river, a netter of wildfowl by trade. I know he 
will have a skiff hidden somewhere in the marsh. 
If we can reach him, I make no doubt that we will 
get safely across.” 


147 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< < «-<■«■« «<« 

As the shades of evening drew in, we saddled our 
refreshed horses and led them forth from the old 
building. The saddle and baggage of the sumpter 
horse we left behind, for if we were forced to give 
up the idea of the boat and were pressed hard, it 
would enable us to travel faster. 

It was completely dark when we reached the 
vicinity of the main road; drawing up in the shadow 
of a hedge we sat and listened. Not a sound broke 
the evening stillness, save the barking of a tyke at 
some distant house and the plaintive cry of a solitary 
lapwing. 

Sacrificing caution for the sake of speed, we 
trotted boldly on until the twinkle of lights warned 
us that we were approaching Falkirk village, so we 
cut across country in a wide detour, regaining the 
road a mile beyond. Again, we stopped to consider. 
We had come six miles from the moor and fortune 
had been with us. What should we do now? Chance 
the road still further and attempt to get through to 
the west of Stirling or make for the Forth? Any 
moment a patrol might come along, so while we 
argued in low tones we listened. Ranald, I knew, 
was loath to desert our horses, despite the long ride 
still before us the Stirling way, and getting more 
hazardous the nearer we approached the line. On 
the other hand, if we could not find the boat, we 
would still be south of Stirling at dawn and if 

148 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
• < « < < ■ << ■«< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< <■ < - 

discovered, in a bad position for escape, with nothing 
but exhausted horses to save us. And yet again, if 
successful in the crossing we would still be in enemy 
country with only our shanks to depend upon, 
hiding by day and travelling by night until we 
reached the Highland line. 

But Luke was confident he could find a boat. It 
was that and the knowledge of the close watch kept 
about Stirling, bound to be greatly augmented by 
the hue and cry for us, which finally decided us. 
As it transpired within the next half hour, it was 
the only thing we could have done, as fate at last 
frowned upon us. 

We had gone on about two miles and were passing 
a farm house in which all the lights were out, when 
suddenly we were challenged. 

''Halt!” rang the command. 

Following Ranald’s lead, we set spurs to our horses 
and went thundering up the road. There was a 
hoarse command, followed by a clamour about the 
buildings and a scattering volley of shots. Leaning 
low in the saddle, I heard the slugs whistle about us 
as we tore up the hard road. 

"Turn sharp when I do, at the big oak!” shouted 
Luke in my ear. "Tell the Captain. We have got 
to distance them for the next two miles; if we turn 
here we’ll get bogged in the soft ground.” 

I passed the word to Ranald who was riding on my 

149 



THE HIGHLANDER 
< < ««-<-< < < «< « <■< «<<«■<■<■<■<■«■< <-<- < ■ < ■<■< <<<«•« 

left. His answer was to urge his horse the more, 
knowing there was nothing to be gained by preserv¬ 
ing the beasts’ wind for a few miles when by getting 
the most out of them might add a little distance 
needed at the Ferry. 

Evidently we had ridden onto the patrol, whilst 
they were watering their horses and by taking the 
soft side of the road, the better to pass the farm 
house without undue notice, we had come onto 
them before they were aware. 

It was evident that the rascals were well mounted, 
for strive as we might we could not increase the 
few hundred yards between us. In fact, as time 
went on, it appeared that two or three of them were 
slowly lessening the distance. On we tore, into the 
night, with the Covenant Horse thundering behind. 
Could we make it? One after another, harrowing 
thoughts flashed across my mind. Obviously, we 
could not gain distance enough to throw them off 
our track. 

Suddenly, Luke stretched an arm to the left. A 
huge oak was racing towards us. It flashed by, he 
turned at the gallop and we followed, out onto a 
broad meadow. We gained a bit. On our pursuers 
came, some of them overshooting the mark and 
having to turn. The horses were almost winded and 
the last few hundred rods over that soft ground, 
sinking to their fetlocks, did it. Luke appeared to 

150 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
«< < <<« «<<<«<<<<<<-<««•<- < ■«<<<«-«<«-<-<• 

be making for a certain part of the meadow, for he 
stood in his stirrups, the better to see, as he urged on 
his faltering horse. Suddenly he halted and flung 
himself to the ground. 

"Here!” he cried. "By the two willows. The 
path runs between them. Mind, for it is narrow. 
Follow close or you will be in the bog!” 

In single file we followed his lead, slipping and 
floundering along through the rushes, now and then 
breaking into a little opening where the water lay 
in silent, velvety and menacing pools. The moon, 
both a curse and a blessing, helped us on our way, 
but it helped our pursuers too. Looking fearfully 
over my shoulder, I could see their dark silhouettes 
bobbing along in our wake. Shouting and cursing, 
they floundered after us. It was evident that none 
of them knew the track and that they were in diffi¬ 
culty, for stopping to catch a breath, we realised 
that they had lost distance. 

There was no time to lose,—we still had the boat 
to find and we must be well out in the stream before 
they gained the bank. On we went, lungs bursting, 
our legs like lumps of lead. It was not the first time 
that I have been pursued, nor the last and I know 
nothing more exhausting than the fear of the 
hunted. On even terms, it has always seemed that 
the pursuer has everything in his favour. 

I was ready to sink in the mud when Luke stopped 

151 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< ■ < ■«<« << «« «««««« 

again and, looking back, laughed. "I doubt you’ll 
catch us this time,” he said. 

We had come a good half mile since we left the 
horses, working in and out around bog holes and 
tall rushes, eastward, but always nearer to the 
river. 

Our pursuers were well distanced, when against 
the gleam of the water, we beheld a wee boothie, 
around which hung nets and other bits of gear. A 
dim light came through some cracks in the ram¬ 
shackle place, but paying no attention to that, Luke 
made for a rude dock of planks which ran out 
crazily into the water. 

"Gone!” he cursed. "He’s hidden it!” 

Kicking open the door he dashed in. "Johnnie,” 
I heard him cry, "Johnnie, ye blasted sot, where 
awa’ is the boat?” 

Looking in, we beheld him leaning over an un¬ 
conscious figure asprawl a dirty cot and shaking it 
madly. 

"Drunk!” he cried. "Drunk as usual, God curse 
him; and the boat hidden!” 

He let the man’s head fall back, lolling with the 
smear of a mouth open and emitting strangled 
snores. 

"Come!” he said. "There’s no time to lose here. 
Jock! Do you search the bank to the right, whilst 
I try downstream. Search close, in the rushes and 

152 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 

particularly any leads into the river up which he 
might have pushed it.” 

"Right!” cried Ranald. "Be fast, lads, if they 
come too close before you’re back, we’ll try to stop 
them.” 

We looked to our priming in the light of the 
boothie and went forth without a word. There was 
nothing to say; we knew full well the predicament 
we were in. 

We heard our men slopping away on the river 
bank; the water rippled against the piles of the dock 
and the night breeze whispered eeriely through the 
sedge. A marsh owl, ill-omened bird, flitted by, 
disturbed by the increasing racket of the enemy 
drawing steadily on. 

"About three minutes more,” said Ranald quietly. 
"Luke must find it in that time. It looks as if there 
were three or four well in advance of the rest. We 
may be able to dispose of them.” 

The nearest were some two hundred yards away 
and coming slowly, for they were encumbered with 
heavy jack boots and in worse case than we had been. 
A hundred yards—fifty—still no boat and then I 
heard a blessed shout from Luke and the sound of 
oars against tholes, thumping down the river. 

The leaders among our pursuers heard it too and 
redoubled their efforts to reach the bank. Mean¬ 
while, Jock came running back. 

153 



THE HIGHLANDER 
««« < <■<■<■«■«<■<-<-<■<■«■< <-<■<■« < « <«■< « ««« 

"Stand by the bank and keep the boat out of the 
mud!” Ranald ordered, "and hold her there till we 
take care of these fellows! Don’t miss, laddie,” he 
said through his teeth. "Make sure! Your pistol 
against them is best. There’s still a chance if we 
handle it properly!” 

Then they were on us. A flash and a deafening 
roar and the first fell on his face, the second stumbled 
over him. I cut at his head as he fell and he lay still, 
while Ranald engaged the next with his sword. The 
trooper had no chance in his heavy equipment on the 
slimy ground. He swung a blow with his sabre and 
slipped and as the stroke went wide, I saw Ranald 
lunge and the figure slumped like a sack of corn in 
the ooze beside the path and the other two, for 
there were five, held back. 

"Come!” cried Luke and turning, we ran for the 
boat, falling into it as Jock shoved off. Ranald, 
standing amidship, fired his second pistol towards 
the bank and I followed suit, our two valiant lads 
straining at the oars. 

We had made a matter of a dozen lengths from 
shore when additional troopers ran up and lined the 
bank. A scattering fire was directed towards us and 
the slugs whipped the water about our craft. Just a 
moment more and we would be safe and then with 
a sob, Luke crumpled over his oar and the boat 
yawed. Ranald grasped the unfortunate man 

154 



FLIGHT FROM AULD REEKIE 
«« «-<-< ««« <■<<<■< < <<■<■<<■<■<<<<<<-<■<<■<■<<<<<< 

under the arms and passed him forward to me in 
the bow and took his place. Soon the little craft was 
out of range. As the fire and din died down upon 
the bank, we rowed steadily across the river, while 
Luke lay with his head upon my knee. 


155 



CHAPTER X 


Escape 

Luke stirred uneasily in the bottom of the skiff. 

"'Where is it?” I asked, bending over him. He 
indicated his side, and held the place with his hand. 
His brow was cold with sweat and his breath came 
in short catching gasps. I eased his position as best 
I could in the cramped quarters which the bow 
afforded and loosening his collar bathed his throat 
and face with the cool water of the Forth. 

After a bit the rowers ceased their efforts. We 
had come a long way for the river was broad. Whilst 
they rested upon their oars, we listened, but all was 
quiet. Apparently our tumultuous escape on the 
far bank had not aroused those upon the north shore. 
Through a rising mist I dimly discerned low alders 
upon the bank and the green of a light or two 
twinkling beyond. 

Said Ranald, "It seems all right. We’ll chance it 
and land here. The sooner we get ashore the better. 
Our pursuers may be after us any minute, though I 
doubt it. They must know that we would be ashore 

156 




ESCAPE 

■<^*<<<<- ^ <<<< <-<< < << < < 

long before they could get out of the marsh and ride 
around to the nearest boats. More likely they will 
send a messenger across to arouse Clackmannan and 
post another to Stirling.” 

Rowing cautiously to the bank we drew the boat 
up on the shingles. Behind the willows was a broad 
meadow to which we bore Luke as gently as we 
could. Ranald knelt beside him. Untying the 
thrums of his doublet he deftly cut away the man’s 
shirt and examined the wound. Luke had bled sur¬ 
prisingly little, which gave me encouragement. 
Making a pack from the torn shirt Ranald bade 
Jock wet it in the river, whereupon he bound it 
around the well-nigh insensible man with a strip of 
his ministerial cloak. 

"Will he do, think you?” I murmured. 

For answer Ranald motioned me aside. "The man 
is done for—’tis a mortal hurt. I know little of 
surgery, but never did I see one recover from such 
a wound.” 

I mentioned hopefully the lack of bleeding, but 
he shook his head. 

"Lie’s bleeding inwardly—the worst sign. There 
is nothing we can do. God curse the luck,” he added 
impatiently. "Was there ever a worse kettle of fish! 
We cannot leave him, and he may take hours to die. 
Meanwhile the whole countryside will be up against 


157 



THE HIGHLANDER 

«<-<-« <■«« « 

Hot anger surged within me at this, in the face of 
all that the poor fellow had done for us and yet I 
knew that he was right. After all Ranald had said he 
would not leave him, so I kept my peace. 

We went back and stood beside him, considering 
our case. Luke stirred uneasily and opened his eyes. 
He smiled wanly and asked for a drink. Even by 
the pale radiance of the young moon it was easy to 
see that he was far gone. Jock returned with a hat 
full of water, the drinking of which seemed to make 
him worse, for he groaned and complained of the 
pain in his side. 

"Luke,” said Ranald, "we will go and sink the 
boat, rest easy.” 

The man nodded understandingly and closed his 
eyes. We returned to the skiff and loaded it with 
stones. Towing it out into shallow water we tipped 
it until it filled and sank. This took considerable 
time and when we had done I hurried back to the 
dying man. He lay just as we had left him, flat on 
his back, with his hand pressed to his side. 

"Luke,” I asked, "how is it with you, lad?” 

There was no answer and bending low I saw that 
his mouth had fallen open and his eyes stared up 
fixedly at the moon. 

"He’s dead,” said Ranald looking over my shoul¬ 
der, " ’twas the water did it—I thought it would, 
poor lad. He’ll suffer no more. Well—that helps 

158 



ESCAPE 

< < <<<< <<<<<<< < << <<«<<<<<■<■<■<-<-<. 
solve our problem. Let us do the best we can for him 
and be off.” 

We carried the body to a nearby stone wall and 
wrapped it in Ranald’s cloak. We covered his face 
with a handkerchief and stood for a moment in 
silent prayer. 

"Come,” murmured Ranald. "There lies a gallant 
soldier. We can do no more—let us go.” 

We struck out across country at a rapid pace 
taking our directions from the stars. The ground 
rose gently from the river and to our relief we soon 
reached firm footing on high ground, where we 
made good time. The lights of the countryside had 
long since disappeared, so when we eventually came 
out upon what appeared to be a main road we 
trudged boldly along, with little fear of detection. 
Some miles on we came to a crossroad where we 
stopped for a consultation, and decided to turn 
west which would take us into the hills. Plodding 
into the silent night until the crowing of a cock 
warned of the approaching day, we soon beheld a 
faint gleam of light colouring the sky at our backs 
that warned us to cover. 

Clackmannan, being staunchly Covenant in prin¬ 
ciple and heavily garrisoned, we could expect little 
sympathy from the people and would have to fend 
for ourselves. So we quit the road and hurried on, 
fearful that we might be discovered by the sun 

159 




THE HIGHLANDER 

< << <■ << < 

before locating a hiding place. Entering a little 
copse we scuttled through like rabbits and cautiously 
scanned the country from the far side. There was a 
thickset hedge on our left bearing towards a bracken 
covered hillside, for which we made, keeping an eye 
out for possible watchers. And having run the 
gauntlet with success we threw ourselves down in 
the hospitable bracken to wait and watch through 
the day. 

Said Ranald, "We shall be famished by night and 
I believe we would do well to approach some farm 
or village and attempt to find the whereabouts of the 
Marquis. Travelling rapidly as he does, there is no 
telling where he may be at present from Elgin to 
Glasgow—for ’tis nine days since we left him at 
Crief. If he is still in Balquhidder, for which he was 
headed, we should push west. But ’tis where they 
would naturally look for us, and if the Marquis has 
succeeded in gathering enough men to enable him 
to swing north in an effort to join Nathaniel Gordon, 
we would do well to head in that direction, the 
sooner to come up with him.” 

"But,” I argued, "why not, in any case, make for 
Sannoch to gather my men, and then on to join the 
Marquis?” 

"Because you have forgotten, laddie, about a 
certain paper which I picked up while enjoying the 
hospitality of our friend McGilvery.” 

160 



ESCAPE 

<■ <<<<< <<<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<<-<-< 

I replied that I had indeed forgotten the incident 
in the press of the past few hours. 

"Aye,” answered Ranald, "and well you might. 
But it none the less concerns you closely. For you 
see, the letter was from a certain traitorous rogue, 
name of Ian Mactavish, writ in his own hand to the 
minister importuning that worthy to use his in¬ 
fluence with the Estates—in the event that we were 
not caught in Edinburgh—to have him, Mactavish, 
commissioned to go north and raise his men for your 
apprehension, and to lay Sannoch waste in the name 
of the Covenant. In return for which patriotic 
service, should he be successful in delivering you to 
the Estates, he should be awarded with all of your 
lands lying to the north of the Lyon. What say 
you for that, cousin?” 

"Say! Why, that there is all the more reason we 
should haste to Sannoch before him—so that he 
may not surprise the Glen.” 

"Hum,” pondered Ranald, "I have thought of 
that. Still I am much of the opinion of my late 
commander, the Grand Duke, who said when the 
Turks outnumbered us two to one that one good 
man fighting on his own dunghill, in a just cause, 
was worth three rascals on the other side. True, 
your force is small, but the place is strong and unless 
I mistake they’ll never catch old Dougal napping. 
My idea is to reach Montrose with all speed and 

161 



THE HIGHLANDER 

confront him with this letter. Remember, he is not 
aware of Mactavish’s disloyalty and plot to fraught 
our plans. Nor was the Marquis all sure that we 
were entirely in the right at Inverary, so he diplo¬ 
matically took a middle course. He constantly has 
buzzing in his ears the petty quarrels of those about 
him, and while he likes us, there is no reason under 
normal conditions why he should embroil himself 
with either side, and risk estranging some supporters. 
But confront him with this proof, and he will have 
no remaining doubt of the rascal’s double-dealing 
and if I mistake not, will readily grant my request 
of a few soldiers to augment our men. Then, we will 
turn the tables upon your kindly neighbour. It will 
be his Hold instead of yours which will burn and 
it may be that we shall send him to scorch his feet on 
the hot griddles of Hades a bit the sooner.” 

"Tonight, we will send Jock into some village, he 
is the least likely to be detected, to get the lie of the 
land and food. Then we will make our plans.” 

Drawing lots to see who would take the first 
watch, we slept fitfully throughout the day, the bet¬ 
ter to conserve our strength and forget our gnawing 
hunger. As soon as night fell, we emerged and con¬ 
tinued our nocturnal flight until the twinkle of 
lights warned that we were approaching a hamlet. 
Feeling sure that it would hold an inn, being as it was 
on a main road of travel, we dispatched Jock to it, 

162 



ESCAPE 

first having agreed that if aught went amiss and he 
was not back in two hours that we would continue 
our journey. Travelling alone, he was in little 
danger, as we were supposed to be four in number 
and they had no way of knowing that one had been 
killed. If he had to run for it and successfully 
eluded his pursuers he was instructed to make his 
way to Sannoch as best he could and warn Dougal 
before regaining the army. 

We wished him luck and he disappeared in the 
gloom while we waited beside a large white rock on 
the brae above the town. Time passed slowly. 
Ranald paced to and fro impatiently, pausing every 
now and then to listen. It seemed as if Jock would 
never return and had we not the stars to gauge the 
time by, we would certainly have departed before 
the limit set was expired. Most of the lights disap¬ 
peared as the simple people went to bed. At last we 
heard a shrill whistle. Ranald replied and soon an 
indistinct figure loomed in the dark. It was Jock. 

He explained that as he approached the village 
from the opposite side, the better to avoid suspicion, 
he saw some mounted troops in the street, who were 
apparently prepared to move on. Waiting for them 
to depart, he repaired to the miserable inn of the 
place and called for a tankard of ale, asking the land¬ 
lord how far it was to Colross, which was behind us 
and in the opposite direction to that which we would 

163 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<*<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< <* < < <<<<<^ 

take, mentioning casually that he had a distant kins¬ 
man in the neighbourhood who could give him work 
upon his farm. 

The landlord proved loquacious, and under the in¬ 
fluence of a second pot vouched momentous news of 
the army, of first import to us. The soldiers who 
were on the lookout for us had told him and like all 
landlords he felt it his duty to dispense all and 
sundry gossip which came to his ear. 

Moving with that lightning rapidity which never 
failed to surprise his opponents, the Marquis had 
appeared suddenly at Doune while Hurry and Baillie 
thought him still in Balquhidder. Dashing on past 
the towering peak of Schiehallion, he continued 
through Glen Muick to the Dee, and when last heard 
of had been rejoined by Alasdair with fresh West 
Highland levies and Lord Gordon who had at long 
last rallied the forces of his uncle Huntly and 
brought him two thousand foot and full two hun¬ 
dred horse. 

Ranald slapped Jock on the back in glee. "Well 
done!” he cried. "I swear I would rather have your 
news than a side of beef this very minute! Now 
we really know what to do. You’re for Sannoch in 
the morning, but we might as well continue on the 
night. We cannot be more than fifteen miles, as the 
crow flies, from the Earn which we should cross near 
Castle Drummond before dawn if we push fast. 

164 



ESCAPE 

<<■ < < < < << < ■<<<<< <<<<<<<<< <<«<<-< 

Meanwhile what sort of a repast have you for us?” 

Jock gave us the bread and cheese which he had 
purchased at the inn. It was none too much for such 
famished men, but he dared not excite suspicion by 
getting too much for his assumed journey. Having 
wolfed it down, off we started again to put Clack¬ 
mannan behind us as soon as possible. Following 
rough tracks at times and again striking straight 
across country with the stars and the growing moon 
to guide us we made fast time. I had acquired a 
blister on my heel which made matters worse and 
was sore put to it to keep up with the pace Jock set 
and was just about to call quits when we came in 
sight of the Earn. Fording it and climbing the far 
slope we found a dingle of rowan and bracken in 
which I flung myself tired and leg-weary. 

I slipped off into unconsciousness and when 
awaked by Ranald, heard that Jock had departed. 
It was my cousin’s belief that we were less than five 
miles from Crief and as we were now comparatively 
safe, we should make haste to get in and secure def¬ 
inite news as to the army’s whereabouts. 

Going boldly to a farm we learned that we were 
indeed but a few miles from our destination, but 
the simple fellow could give us no information. He 
did afford us each a large bowl of sour cream and 
porridge, which heartened us for the journey. 

The innkeeper at Crief recognised us and being 

165 



THE HIGHLANDER 


a loyal man agreed to find two horses to help us 
to our goal. Meanwhile he admonished us to keep 
off the streets, in fact, for his sake, to stay hid in the 
room which he would provide as there was no telling 
what the leaning might be of those who saw us 
abroad. He led us up the familiar staircase to the 
room which our leader had formerly occupied, 
where less than two weeks previous we had laid 
before him our ambitious plan. 

"Well,” observed Ranald, flinging himself into 
a chair as our host hurried off to bring food and 
wine, "little did we think to sit here again so soon. 
To speak the truth, four days ago I, for one, would 
not have given a farthing for our chances of ever 
doing so. Ah! laddie,” he added with a waggish 
grin, " ’tis a braw thing to have a way with the 
women. Now if it were not for that innocent young 
face of yours, where would we be?” 

"You would have found a way,” I answered, col¬ 
ouring under his raillery. 

"I might, I daresay I would, but you must admit, 
Master Innocence, that she made it a lot easier. 
And what a lass it is! I’ll tell you the truth, if I 
were the marrying kind now and not a rough dog 
unfit for a decent woman’s society, I would have 
that one, Campbell or no! And,” he added, walk¬ 
ing to the window, "you would be a fool if you 
don’t.” 


166 



ESCAPE 

««< < ■ < ■«<< < < < < < < <<<<<<< <*««<<<< < <-<-<■ 

" ’Tis impossible,” I said. "A Sannoch and a 
Campbell of Ardchatten! The girl is as far re¬ 
moved from me as an angel.” 

"Hoot! There is nothing impossible when a lad¬ 
die loves a lass, though the fact that you think so 
proves that you have given it thought. If you want 
her and she wants you, take her. All you have to 
do is say the word and if it’s help you want in an 
affair of this kind you have only to ask me. I am 
no a bad cupid, though I carry a sword in place of 
a bow.” 

"Have done,” I replied, piqued that he should 
have discovered my thoughts, "my feeling towards 
her is but one of respect for a splendid girl, the 

finest I have known, and appreciation of her char- 

• » 
lty. 

"Hum,” he grunted knowingly, "respect might 
be one name for it and charity another, but let it 
pass. We have much to do before you will set eyes 
on her again and here is mine host with our supper.” 

With relief I turned to the landlord for further 
news. We learned, while disposing of the meal, 
that what Jock had heard was indeed true, and the 
Marquis had moved on into the Gordon country 
to oppose Hurry who threatened it from the south¬ 
east. The Covenanters of Murray and Elgin had 
rallied to him. Ranald’s crafty kinsman, Seaforth, 
had again recanted and gone over to their cause 

167 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<« ««-< «< « ■ «««««« « < «■«« 

bringing with him his Mackenzies, as had Lovat and 
many of the lairds of Sutherland and Ross. Mont¬ 
rose had hurried on to Skene by way of the Spey 
to give him battle before his force was augmented 
by further supports. But Hurry was weary and 
not to be drawn into battle in the Gordon country 
and had retreated before him falling back to Elgin 
with the Marquis in pursuit. 


168 



CHAPTER XI 

^ < < << ■ < ■««•< <<■<■< 


The Encounter at the Inn 

Having finished our repast, the innkeeper with¬ 
drew, promising to see about our horses and to have 
them back of the inn at nightfall, the better to 
conceal our going. Whereupon we bolted the door 
and lay down to sleep. Ominous clouds had rolled 
up from the west as we reached Crief, so I was not 
surprised when I was awakened by the rattle of rain 
against the casement. I drew a chair to the window 
and sat looking out upon the drenching downpour. 

The rain was long overdue and bid fair to con¬ 
tinue, arguing for an uncomfortable ride into the 
north. Water spouted from the leads and the ken¬ 
nels overflowed, inundating the narrow street. 
’Twould be fortunate if we reached Aberfeldy by 
dawn, I mused, making Atholl the following day, 
before we struck off to the east; for it would be 
necessary to keep well within the Highland line to 
avoid the enemy’s patrols. Perhaps it would be bet¬ 
ter to continue straight north by way of Rothie- 
murchus and Abernethy, cross the Spey and take 
to the hills in a general direction at Forres. 

169 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<■ < <« « «« 

I had about decided to suggest this route to Ran¬ 
ald when my attention was arrested by a clatter of 
hoofs upon the cobbles and a small coach, bespat¬ 
tered with the mud of the road, pulled up at the 
door, with two mounted men riding behind. Clearly 
it was someone of importance. 

Drawing back from the window, I peeped cau¬ 
tiously out. One of the riders dismounted and went 
to open the door of the conveyance from which a 
tall man of commanding presence stepped. His 
large spade beard was a silvery grey and suggested 
one in his middle fifties, but before I could more 
carefully observe him another emerged. To my as¬ 
tonishment and horror I beheld the lean cadaverous 
figure of the detestable McGilvery. A hundred ap¬ 
prehensions flashing across my mind, I was about 
to arouse Ranald, when a third figure emerged and 
my heart gave a great bound. It was a woman, tall 
and slender, wrapped in a dark blue cape, clasped 
at the neck with a silver brooch. Her head was en¬ 
cased in the tightly drawn hood, but there was no 
denying that presence. I knew that it could be no 
one but Ellen. 

As they disappeared in the entry, I hastened to 
the bed and shook Ranald. 

"Get up!” I cried. "She is here.” 

"What!” he asked, coming instantly awake, 
"Who’s here?” 


170 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 


«*■*■< *,<< < • <<<<<<< ■<< <<<<<<<<<< < <-<-<<<<« <<-<-<-<-<-< 

"Ellen, she has just arrived in a coach.” 

"You’re mad!” he answered incredulously. 

"I tell you ’tis so. Just now a coach with two 
riders in attendance, drew up at the inn and she got 
out—I saw not her face, but it could be no other.” 

"Alone?” 

"NO, no! With her father I suppose, a tall man 
with a grey beard and McGilvery.” 

With a bound he was off the bed. "In God’s name, 
why did not you say so first? Ardchatten here and 
with the minister! I but thought that the girl was 
following you. You’re sure? But of course you 
are,” with a gesture of dismissal. "But why? They 
can not be after us. Campbell has more important 
fish to fry. He must be for Hurry or Baillie, on be¬ 
half of the Estates. We are safe enough. No one 
who knows we are here would betray our presence. 
All we have to do is lie low until dark.” 

"Ranald,” I said, "I have got to see her ere we 

go.” 

"But of course you have, laddie,” he laughed. 
" ’Tis of the utmost importance. You may secure 
information of value to Montrose. The girl must 
be to some extent in her father’s confidence and 
no doubt he and McGilvery talked in the coach. 
We must discover what brings them north, and the 
girl should make it easy. Do not give rise to suspi¬ 
cion and shut her up like an oyster, but by careful 

171 




THE HIGHLANDER 

suggestion you may lead her into comments which 
when pieced together will give us the clue.” 

At this fresh indication of Ranald’s callous na¬ 
ture, my gorge rose. Rapidly I recalled his insistence 
that we should take off the last man of Sannoch and 
leave the Glen to its fate. How, regardless of Mr. 
Cameron’s welfare, he sought to embroil the poor 
man in our plot, until he saw his lack of stomach 
for it. His impatience when Luke was stricken 
and became a burden, rather than a sincere sym¬ 
pathy for the poor fellow’s terrible plight. Well 
I know how cheaply he held women. That in it¬ 
self was but natural, considering his life, but that 
he would make a tool of this lovely girl for whom 
he had so recently expressed admiration, — that he 
could suggest I should betray her confidence— 
was too much. 

"In God’s name,” I cried, "have you no self- 
respect, and having none, are you incapable of real¬ 
ising others have? But an hour gone you freely 
admitted our debt to Ellen, probably our lives, and 
yet you would have me go to her in the name of 
friendship and the regard she has for us, to wheedle 
her father’s secrets from her. Have you no shame 
or sense of honour!” 

He stood coldly silent, staring at me without in¬ 
terrupting my tirade. Then he spoke. 

"You can have all the nice sense of honour that 

172 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
«««««< <<««« << -<<<<<< < . <<<< < . < . < . <<<< 

you like in your own affairs, but this is war, and 
everything is fair, and while you are crowing so 
loudly about honour, don’t forget, my cockerel, that 
you have sworn allegiance to the Royal cause and 
nothing, not even your madness for this lass, shall 
stand in the way of that. I shall have something to 
say about it.” 

"Aye,” I sneered, "I suppose that you were honour 
bound to wish Luke dead when he became a bur¬ 
den.” 

He took a step towards me, a menacing look 
across his handsome countenance, and I thought for 
a moment that we would come to blows, but with 
a visible effort, he controlled himself and strode to 
the window where he stood with his back to me 
looking out. The rain continued to lash against the 
casements with unabated fury. Night was falling 
and gloom settled in the chamber as well as in our 
hearts. Finally he turned. 

"This is the second time, Sannoch, that your dis¬ 
approval of me has almost led to a break between 
us. There must be no third—I’ll not suffer it. My 
views, my ways may not be yours, but they have 
served me well in a hard world. Perhaps your 
course through life will be smoother. I hope it will 
—if that is your desire. Mine has been a rougher 
road by choice. Men and women I measure to my 
own valuations, not theirs, with an eye to their use- 

173 



THE HIGHLANDER 

^<<<<< <-<<■<■< ««<« 

fulness, giving what I consider a just measure in 
return. 

"You condemn my attitude towards women. To 
me they are but playthings. Not one of them in a 
score is to be trusted. They have forgotten more of 
craft and cunning in their childhood than most 
men ever learn. The worst of them are capable of 
the most generous impulses, the best of them in a 
spirit of vengeance, or even pique, of the most 
dastardly and unfair acts. I keep a step ahead of 
them. 

"You condemn me also for a callous disregard of 
Luke’s predicament. A splendid fellow, and a fine 
soldier. Living, I did all that I could for him. Dead, 
he is to be regretted as one no longer with us. 
Wounded, in our position, he was a hindrance. 
My code would not permit me to leave him, but 
I could not in honesty to myself do other than re¬ 
sent his incapacity endangering our lives. After 
all, ’tis the luck of a soldier—his turn yesterday— 
maybe mine tomorrow. 

"I fight for the cause which pays me best in one 
kind or another. I give the best I have in exchange 
and the stake is my greatest treasure—life. I do 
for those whom I call my friends, and expect the 
same in exchange. But I don’t cry over spilt milk 
and I do not expect them to blubber over me when 
my turn comes. The hardest thing for a healthy 

174 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
-<<<<<<<■<<<<<■ <<<<-<<<<<■< <■« «< «« ■< <■ <■<■ 

minded person to retain is sorrow and that is as 
it should be. 

"So, if we go on, you will accept me on this basis. 
If I respect your regard for this girl, you will tol¬ 
erate my ways too. But I tell you straight, your 
duty is first to Montrose, not the daughter of our 
enemy, and if you do not exert yourself for the 
cause, you have been tested and found wanting. For 
all you know, the lives of three thousand men may 
hinge upon what she could tell. Would you risk this 
for a cavalier attitude towards a petticoat? It is not 
worthy of you—play a soldier’s part!” 

"Nevertheless,” I replied coldly, "I cannot recon¬ 
cile a betrayal of Ellen’s confidence with my grati¬ 
tude.” 

"So be it. Then I will act upon my own. In your 
joy at seeing this girl, I suppose you have overlooked 
the position their coming has put us in to accomplish 
our original purpose? Failing utterly at Edinburgh, 
fate smiles upon us again and places the prize, 
Campbell of Ardchatten, in our hands. Right on 
the Highland line and with but three men to assist 
him. How do you propose to answer that omission 
of duty to the Marquis?” 

For the moment I was speechless. What he said 
was true. In my surprise at seeing Ellen and Mc- 
Gilvery in Crief, it had completely escaped me 
that here was a golden opportunity. Then a vision 

175 



THE HIGHLANDER 
«< <■<■ <-<-< < < «««««■«■< < <-< -< «- «-<«-< < ««« 

of the scene in the hayloft of the old stable passed 
across my memory. 

"He need never know,” I murmured, thinking 
aloud of the only way out, and could have bitten 
off my tongue for having given voice to the 
thought. 

"Never know! And you prate of honour!” 

"Have you forgotten our promise to the maid 
not to take arms against a Campbell except in self- 
defence?” I cried. 

"Aye,” he answered bitterly, "I have thought of 
it. A needless and quixotic gesture, in which I joined 
you because I never foresaw that we would be so 
placed. It was gallant of you, but who in his right 
mind would expect us to meet a Campbell and not 
have to defend ourselves? However, a promise is 
a promise and I will live up to it. Montrose will 
think us errant fools and with cause, but cannot 
you see in this all the more reason for gleaning such 
information as you can?” 

"I cannot,” I said, with finality. 

"Very well,” he retorted. "Go, see your maid and 
I will see Ardchatten.” 

"To what purpose?” 

"That fortune must decide, but I have no oath 
against getting any information I can, and God 
help such Campbells as set upon me.” 

I said nothing. Grudgingly I had to admit that 

1 76 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
^<< < < < -< < << < < < < <<<<<< < <<< 

he was as right from his point of view as I was in 
mine, but I had not the grace to tell him so. Mean¬ 
while, the landlord tapped discreetly at the door 
with our supper. He told us that he had secured 
good nags for us which would be brought around 
within the hour, though it was no weather for a 
Christian to be abroad. 

Ranald asked him where his new guests were 
chambered, and he indicated two rooms at the end 
of the passage. The laird was in the first one and his 
daughter occupied the next. Evidently the man 
was unaware of the importance of his guests. 

"Where is the minister?” asked Ranald. 

"Below in the taproom, holding forth on religion 
with the men, who appear to have had enough of it.” 

Scribbling a note on a bit of paper in which I 
told Ellen that we were here and that I must see 
her as soon as possible I gave it to our host, bidding 
him carry it discreetly to the lady and bring me 
her answer, but on no account, let her companions 
learn of it. Meanwhile, Ranald paid for our enter¬ 
tainment and the horses and we sat down to eat in 
silence. We were hardly done when he came back, 
saying that the lady seemed frightened at my mes¬ 
sage, and bid me come to her chamber in an hour, 
as her father would then be at supper. "Good sirs,” 
he added fearfully, "I trust that there is naught 
amiss in this, for the laird looks like a man of posi- 

177 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< «« « «« 

tion and if, added to your discovery, it was found 
that I was in it with you, a ruined man I’d be.” 

Ranald laughed. "There’s no danger, man! In 
fact, I have business with the laird, but on no ac¬ 
count must the minister, who knows us, get wind 
of it or he will give the show away.” 

Satisfied, the innkeeper left and again we sat in 
moody silence. I was torn between the desire to see 
Ellen and fear of what would transpire between 
Ranald and her father. Yet I could not bring my¬ 
self to question him further. 

Finally, as if having made a decision, he got up 
and donned his hat and cloak. 

"I am going abroad for a bit,” he said, "and will 
look to our horses.” 

"McGilvery will see you,” I cautioned. 

"The worse for him if he does! I have a mind 
to settle with him before I leave, anyway—at least 
he’s no Campbell! However, I believe I can slip 
out unseen. In a little while it will be time for you 
to repair to your lady’s bower. Do not hurry, for 
I shall not beard the lion until he is in his den. Be¬ 
fore I do, I shall tap discreetly upon her door, which 
will be your cue to come forth and about our busi¬ 
ness. If she tires of you sooner, await me here. 

"In either case, go quickly to the stable and bring 
forth the horses, mount and stand in front of the 
door and be sharp—we may have to gallop for it. 

178 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
■<<<<<<-<<<<<< < < <<<< 

Keep your hat pulled down, and if any question 
you, answer like a lowland yokel, but it is not 
likely—there will be few abroad tonight.” 

With that he left me. My anger had flamed again 
at his cutting cynicism regarding my assignation, 
but I held my peace and I heard his footsteps re¬ 
ceding down the stairs. 

A few moments later I picked up my sword and 
cloak and stepped out. The passage was in darkness 
save for a dim light which came from below. Like 
a thief I crept towards my rendezvous. There was 
no light under either door, which argued Ardchat- 
ten was below supping with the minister. Heart 
throbbing and holding my breath, I tapped lightly 
upon the last door. A chair was pushed back within 
and a light tread approached. The bolt slipped and 
as the door opened a groping hand felt for mine and 
drew me quickly in. 

Refastening the door she led me silently across 
the chamber so that we stood in the faint glow which 
crept in from without. 

"Thank God you’re safe,” she whispered, "I 
feared for you—fear for you now. You must away 
the night!” 

I told her that we were going, but that first I 
had to see her again, not mentioning Ranald’s in¬ 
tention of confronting her father. 

"Tell me,” she asked, "of your adventure after 

179 




THE HIGHLANDER 

< < <<<<<< 

you got free of the city. Father said that it would 
be impossible for you to reach the Highlands, so 
close was the line drawn about you. Then at Stir¬ 
ling we learned of your escape across the Forth 
and my hope was renewed. The insatiable minister 
was furious. He can rave of nothing else. You must 
away, laddie. Do not tarry here, for nothing will 
satisfy his vengeance but your head. That terrible 
man,” she added, "y° u have made him the laugh¬ 
ing stock of Reekie.” And forgetting her fears she 
laughed, explaining how the story had spread all 
over the old town, of how they found him bound 
and gagged in his underclothes in his own home 
while we escaped with his pass. 

It was the first time I had heard her laugh, a low, 
merry chuckle that rippled and trilled. It was irre¬ 
sistible and I seized her in my arms and covered her 
with kisses, maddened by the soft warmth of her 
until with lithe strength she pushed me away. 

"Ellen, lassie, I love you! I swear I do!” 

" ’Tis errant madness that we two should act 
thus. If my father knew he would rather I were 
dead.” 

"Ellen, dearest, listen to me. ’Tis not madness; 
’tis fate, a fate which we cannot escape. See how 
it pursues us. Why should I come at Inverary? 
Why should you learn of our peril in Edinburgh, 
and bring us warning? For what reason should 

180 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
«<««« <<< < < -<- « < < <<-< «•<<<< < ■ « ««« « «-<-<• 

you come to this inn tonight of all nights? When I 
kissed you in the loft I thought it was good-bye for¬ 
ever. Listen to me. This is not mere chance. It 
cannot be. I never kissed a lass except in a frolic 
until I kissed you—I could not help it for I knew 
then that I loved you.” 

"Did you?” she whispered, her arms stealing 
about my neck. "Kiss me again . . .” 

And again her soft mouth met mine. How long 
we stood thus I shall never know. The hot and 
newly awakened blood pulsed through my veins. 
I was conscious of nothing but the lovely creature 
within my arms who with the abandon of a wood 
nymph returned embrace with embrace and kiss 
with kiss. At last she threw back her head breath¬ 
lessly, the better to search my face in the dimness. 

"Tell me, do you really love me?” 

"Do not you know?” 

"Oh, you’re mad—but madness or no, I like it.” 
And with an encouraging hug, she added, "Tell me 
more,” and pecked prettily at my lips like a bird. 

"I’ll tell you this—there is a difference between 
liking and believing, but no other woman will I 
ever take to Sannoch.” 

"Hoot!” she exclaimed. "The man is really mad 
—my father would pull the wee place down about 
his ears.” 

"Would he so?” I growled, taking easy affront as 

181 



THE HIGHLANDER 
«« <■«■< <« <■« < «<<■<<«■<-<■<-<-<■<■< <-<-<-< <<<<<-<<< 

lovers always do, and nettled more by her levity 
than the slighting comment upon Sannoch. "The 
Campbells have had some three hundred years to do 
it but still it stands.” 

"Now, now!” she cautioned, "that’s dangerous 
ground for us. Tell me rather of yourself, for the 
time is short, laddie,—tell me of your aims, of 
what you intend to do, of what you have done. I 
would know more about you before you go, which 
must be all too soon.” 

Briefly, as she prompted me, sitting on the bed, I 
told her of my house and its falling fortune. I told 
her of the relentless hate of Mactavish and of the 
just reprisal which I must claim, yet of how I hated 
the clannish wars and would like to devote my life 
to putting them down and bringing a lasting peace 
to the land. 

"Ellen, dearest Ellen, ride with me tonight. Come 
into the hills where we can forget the ancient feud. 
What better beginning for peace could there be 
than that you and I, a Campbell and a Sannoch, 
should go out hand in hand to seek it?” 

"And would you desert the Royalist cause?” 

"Nay,” I admitted. "I cannot do that. I led my 
people into it and I must bide with them, win or 
lose, until the end.” 

"And I have my father to look after. Oh, he is 
a great man,” she added proudly, "quite sufficient 

182 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
<■<<<<<<<■ <■< «■< « ■<■< 

unto himself and yet without a woman to care for 
him, I know not what he would do. Maybe it isn’t 
madness for you to love me—maybe fate, as you 
say, did thrust us in each other’s way. Then, leave 
it to fate. Do not tempt the hussy now, there is 
much between us beside the ancient feud.” 

Ellen,” I pleaded, "tell me, cannot you return 
my love? Cannot you give me a promise? Tell me, 
at least, that it is not hopeless.” 

"Is it not sufficient that you are here? Why ask 
for my love? Or do you think me but a saucy jade, 
as the minister suspects, asking any pleasing cavalier 
to her chamber? Love? Love that will last through 
trials like these—I do not know Sannoch, I do not 
wish to dwell on that—nor, do I wish to know the 
answer yet. Why make further misery for our¬ 
selves at a time like this? Let us believe that we are 
mad in a mad world. At least, there is no one else 
in my heart and you have satisfied the hunger that 
was there. Kiss me good-bye.” 

She pushed me back upon the bed and bending 
over, gathered my head in her arms, her trem¬ 
bling mouth seeking mine again. As I tried to 
hold her to me she freed herself and standing, 
drew me to my feet. Immediately her mood 
changed. 

"My father will be here anon. He will come to 
how I fare. Already you have made me lie to 

183 


see 




THE HIGHLANDER 
< < < <<<< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<<<<<<<<<<-<-<■ < ■< < < ««< 

him, feigning fatigue that I might keep my cham¬ 
ber. Well he knew that it was a subterfuge, but 
thought it was to escape the odious McGilvery. He 
will come to bring me food, and,” she added with 
a droll plaintiveness which made me want to kiss 
her anew, "I am indeed famished and you made 
me miss my supper. Really, you must go, but take 
this for me. ’Tis a Campbell badge and be not proud, 
if ever you are in trouble, remember, it will see you 
through distress with any in Argyll.” 

The room was now completely dark. I took her 
in my arms for the last kiss and felt a tear upon 
my cheek. 

"Ellen, dearest,” I murmured in her hair, "you’re 
crying.” 

"Can you no let a lass have her bit of foolish- 
•* >> 

ness? 

"Ellen, let me bide with you till Ranald comes 
—as he is to do when ready for the road.” 

"Nay, I cannot have you here against my 
father’s coming. Return to your chamber and 
await him there.” Saying which she thrust me into 
the passage, and shut the door determinedly against 
me. 

Returning to the empty chamber I lighted a 
candle so that Ranald would see its gleam beneath 
the door and sat disconsolately to wait. I heard a 
heavy tread pass by, a murmur of voices in which 

184 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
^<<<< < << < < <<<< < << <<<<■<■<<•<<< «-«< ««<■««-< 

I recognised Ellen’s and then the sound of a door 
closing. All was still again save for the swish of 
rain upon the windows. 

Did she return my affection? Or was she just a 
wildly passionate girl, seeking but romance and ex¬ 
citement? I put the thought angrily from me as 
unworthy. Why then had she risked so much for 
us in Edinburgh? Why had she sent me away with¬ 
out the promise a less honest woman could easily 
have made? The ways of women were puzzling 
indeed. Damn it, why did not Ranald come and 
have it over with! 

The door opened quietly. Thinking it was he I 
rose and beheld Ellen, finger to lips, in an admoni¬ 
tion of caution. Quickly she bolted the door and 
turned as my arms enfolded her. 

"Sannoch,” she said, her eyes glistening in the 
light of the tallow dip, "I could not let you go, as 
I planned. In the dark I hid my feelings, but when 
you were gone, it was so lonely there. I love you, 
Sannoch—there’s no use fighting it.” 

"My love, my darling Ellen,” I replied, "you 
make me the happiest of men. Be true to me until 
this war is over. When that day comes, as come 
it will, I shall seek you. We will bury the past 
and live in the future—a future of peace and se¬ 
curity for our people.” 

"Aye,” she answered, "I will!” 

185 



THE HIGHLANDER 

"Despite your father?” 

"Aye, despite him if necessary.” 

I crushed her to me and kissed her lovely hair 
and eyes and her bonny throat. Then came a tap 
at the door. 

" ’Tis Ranald,” I said, opening. 

"So!” he remarked, stepping in, "she did tire—” 
Then seeing Ellen he doffed his hat and swept her 
a bow. "Your pardon, Mistress Ellen. Trying your 
door and getting no reply I thought to find my 
cos alone—I am about to visit your father—” 
"No!” she cried, her face blanching. "No—you 
must not—have you forgotten your promise so 

_ -s JJ 

soon? 

"I think you misjudge my intent,” he answered 
drily, "I never forget a promise and I do not break 
one, though if it were any but your father I would 
wish that I might be absolved from one made you. 
I but seek a few words with him.” 

"To what purpose?” she asked. "He will not 
trade with you. And he has but to call his men 
and you are caught in a trap.” 

"We have arranged for that, Mistress,” he an¬ 
swered easily. 

At that she wheeled on me. "You’re in this too,” 
she cried, incredulous, colour rising in her cheeks. 
"You dally with me, this in your mind—how could 

i »> 

you! 


186 




ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
■ <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < <<< - <<<<<<<<< <<<< <<<<<< <-<-<;. 

"Ellen, I promise you I know no more what is in 
Captain Mackenzie’s mind than you do. But this 
I assure you, he means your father no harm. Surely 
you believe that. Nor did I know that he intended 
to face your father until after I had sent you my 
note.” 

"You knew enough at all events, and kept it nicely 
to yourself,” she cried. Then wheeling on Ranald, 
"What do you expect to gain by this, except harm 
to one or the other of you?” 

"I wish to know,” said Ranald, "the reason for 
his visit to the north.” 

"And do you think that he will tell you? Do you 
think that he will be hectored by you? There will 
be blood in this despite your promise, and it will 
be on your head.” 

"No,” he replied, "I don’t believe there will. I 
doubt your father will force the issue and cer¬ 
tainly we will not. Remember, Mistress, that we 
are loyal men and cannot suffer your father to join 
the northern forces if his journey is detrimental to 
our cause. But enough of this argument, which 
serves no purpose. Let us go to him together, to dis¬ 
sipate distrust.” 

"Most certainly,” she said. "If you will play the 
fool, I go too.” 

She swept from the room without a glance at me 
and up the passage with us in her wake. Tapping 

187 



THE HIGHLANDER 

on the door she flung it open in response to a mur¬ 
mur within. 

Sir John was apparently busy with his corre¬ 
spondence which lay before him upon the table 
behind which he sat. He looked up, an expression 
of surprised inquiry upon his countenance, and rose 
to his feet. Ellen stepped quickly to his side and 
stood facing us. 

“Well?” he inquired. 

“These gentlemen insisted upon seeing you, 
father,” she replied. 

Sir John looked sharply at us, first one and then 
the other. 

“Who are you?” he asked abruptly. 

Ranald took the lead. Stepping forward, hat in 
hand, he bowed deeply, his hand upon his sword 
hilt. If it had been but a courtesy visit, he could 
not have seemed more at ease and sure of himself. 

“I am Ranald Mackenzie of Cromartie, Captain 
of the Royal Lowland Horse under the Marquis 
of Montrose, the King’s Lieutenant of Scotland, 
and this, the Laird of Sannoch.” 

“I thought as much,” came the prompt reply 
and with a grim smile Sir John added, “On another 
kidnapping expedition, Captain?” 

Ranald laughed. “No, Sir John. Chance has but 
thrown us together. We had hoped possibly to make 
the acquaintance of one or more of your friends in 

188 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
*<«<<<<< << <<< < < << <<<< 

Edinburgh. But alas, Dame Fortune ruled other¬ 
wise. It might even have been you,” he added in 
a confidential tone. 

"So failing that, you renew your acquaintance 
with my daughter,” growled Sir John, and shot a 
glance at Ellen. I saw her colour at this proof that 
her father knew of her assistance. 

"Fortunately we did,” Ranald answered frankly. 
"But she had already more than repaid any claim 
which we had against her. We did not know that 
you were aware of that.” 

"I was not definitely,” said Sir John who, taking 
his cue from Ranald, fenced cautiously, "though 
I had my suspicions. Confident that your plot had 
failed I was quite satisfied that you should escape— 
in view of the service I owed you at Inverary, if 
service it can be when one who calls himself a gentle¬ 
man saves a helpless woman while raiding her 
country. But I see no reason for carrying on this in¬ 
timacy,” looking at his daughter with an admonish¬ 
ing frown. "There can be none between Royalists 
and Covenanters or Campbells and Sannochs. I do 

not desire to be embarrassed further by this dally- 

• >> 
mg. 

Ranald bowed in acquiescence. "I heartily con¬ 
cur to your views, Sir John,” he replied. "As one 
with, if I may say so, rather nice instincts, I would 
not have caused you this needless embarrassment, 

189 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«<■« <-«««<« 

except that we are not entirely masters of the situa¬ 
tion. We too owe our strict allegiance to the cause 
we serve. You would not have suffered us to es¬ 
cape Edinburgh had you not been convinced that 
we could no longer do you harm. So you did not 
progress the search a little nearer to home as you 
would have, if not swayed by, let us say, a service to 
your house— Is it not so?” 

Sir John acquiesced with a nod. 

"Exactly. Now we are in the same case, it may 
have occurred to you that fate has again placed you 
in our hands. Duty says that here is the oppor¬ 
tunity denied us in Edinburgh. We have but to 
pack you on a horse and an hour’s ride from Crief 
will put us over the Highland line, in safe terri¬ 
tory. And Montrose will have his hostage.” 

"And what would I be doing?” sarcastically en¬ 
quired Sir John, "while you were attempting this 
cracked scheme? Here I am with three below to 
assist me were I but to shout for aid.” 

Tossing back his cloak Ranald shook his head 
in pleasant denial. "No, Ardchatten,” he said, 
" ’twould not serve. Your sword is in the corner and 
I have these,” tapping the Highland pistols in his 
belt. "Before you could reach your weapon or shout, 
you would be a dead man. As for trapping us with 
the men below, what chance think you two common 
soldiers and a snivelling minister would have against 
Sannoch and myself? None, I assure you. 

190 




ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
« «.««*<< < < << <<<<<< <<< < <■ < < < 

"Of course, this is all hypothesis, for as I said, 
we mean you no harm, but to strengthen the case, 
a short while ago, while seeing that our horses were 
saddled and ready, I took the liberty of cutting 
your girths, and then unknown to the drawer, 
dropped a pinch of a powder, which I have found 
very useful at times, into the tankards intended for 
your men.—It made them sleep like babies—poor 
lads, they were very tired. So you see, Sir John,” 
and he ended with an expressive shrug of the shoul¬ 
ders and beamed genially in the laird’s face. 

Sir John gave him look for look. Then he said, 
"If you mean no harm through consideration of the 
succour which I am to understand my daughter 
afforded you, what is your intention?” 

"Merely to ask you for a frank statement of con¬ 
fidence. We wish to know what mission takes you 
north.” 

"And if I refuse to answer?” 

"In that case we shall have to dispose of the 
minister who is abroad somewhere, should he come 
back inopportunely, and ask you and Mistress Ellen 
to re-enter your coach and ride across the line to 
some place where you would be safe until such a 
time as I am sure that the usefulness of your mission 
has passed. I, myself, would ride in the coach with 
you, being more dependable in such an emergency 
as you might possibly create. And Sannoch would 
ride upon the box.” 


191 



THE HIGHLANDER 
« ■« « ■< <<<<<<<<<<<< <«■ « «<«■« <« < « -«<■« 

Sir John thought a moment, "If I agree to your 
terms, what then?” 

"If we believe that your journey will in no way 
endanger the Royal cause we will bid you good night 
and withdraw with our humblest apologies for the 
interruption.” 

"Hum,” grunted Sir John, "and if you do not 
consider it without danger to your cause, what 
then?” 

"In that case we shall have to ask you to go coach¬ 
ing with us or give us your parole to desist until its 
usefulness is passed.” 

"How do you know that I will tell the truth or 
keep my word?” 

"If you will give me your word on your dirk that 
you speak the truth, that assurance from John of 
Ardchatten is enough for me. But—” and for the 
first time Ranald’s expression of geniality changed 
to one of stern determination—"remember this: 
I go to all this unnecessary trouble and quixotic 
gallantry because of a promise made by Sannoch to 
your daughter, never again to raise his arm against 
a Campbell except in self-defence.” "And,” touch¬ 
ing the hilt of his sword lightly, "I shall keep that 
promise. But my allegiance is first to Montrose. 
Resist and you release me, and I shall go to any 
extreme necessary to retain you. That is my stern 
duty.” 


192 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 

««< «««< 

Sir John looked straight at him in silence. Ellen 
apprehensively drew nearer to her father’s side, a 
look of defiance upon her face. From the moment 
she entered the room she had not glanced at me, so 
completely had her father and Ranald dominated 
the situation. Then Ardchatten spoke. 

"I agree,” he said. "My mission is with General 
Baillie. The Estates are dissatisfied with his pro¬ 
cedure and inability of gaining a decisive battle. I 
am empowered to advise him that unless he shows 
us a victory within a month’s time a committee 
will be sent to counsel him, including Elcho, Argyll, 
Burleigh, and others.” 

Ranald laughed. "On the theory that a lot of 
addlepates are better than one. Montrose has beaten 
the lot individually. Is that all?” 

"Aye!” said Sir John, reddening under his raillery. 
"That is all.” 

"You swear it?” 

"I do,” he said, drawing the sgian dhu from his 
stocking and kissing the blade. 

"Thank you, Sir John. You are free. And now 
there is one more thing: You know well the purpose 
of the hostage which we propose to take. You are 
known as a Christian man. Will you also promise 
to use your influence with the Estates to save those 
poor prisoners in the Tolbooth, if the tide of battle 
go against Montrose?” 


193 



THE HIGHLANDER 
< < <<<< < <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< «■««< <■«««<« 

"Aye” he answered readily, "that do I also. I have 
no desire to see heads lopped off and have ever 
opposed the suggestion.” 

"Then, Sir John,” said Ranald, "we will with¬ 
draw.” He swept the floor with his hat, "Your 
servant, Sir. Mistress, yours.” 

"One moment,” I interrupted. "There is one 
thing more.” 

"More concessions?” asked Sir John pettishly. 

"No,” I explained, "but only this: Mr. Cameron 
of the Grass-Market, who is my factor, was in no 
ways implicated in our plot. ’Tis true he housed 
us before he knew why we were there, but I assure 
you he would have none of it.” 

"He has already been discharged from gaol, for 
want of further evidence,” he answered drily. "We 
did not know for sure that you were housed under 
his roof—still I am glad to know that what you say 
is true.” 

I stepped towards Ellen. I could see that the 
direction the interview had taken had softened her 
rancour. But her father rose and stepped in front 
of her. 

"I believe our interview is over,” he said. "There 
is no need for unnecessary intercourse between 
your house and mine. If, as you say, you are willing 
to bury the sword, I am glad to observe the peace 
with you and will use my influence with those 

194 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
«< < « « «< < < -<-< < < < < <-<-< <<<<<< <<<<<<<<< 

Campbells nearer to you to see that it is kept. But 
there can be no closer bond where so much blood 
has been spilt.” 

There was nothing that I could say, but vowing 
inwardly that he would change his mind, I turned 
and followed Ranald from the room. 

Descending the stairs, to my surprise he walked 
brazenly into the taproom and called for two glasses 
of spirits to warm us on our way. Fearfully I looked 
about me for the minister, but he was not there. 
The place was empty save for the drawer and 
Ardchatten’s drugged soldiers. One sprawled on a 
settle while the other across the table from him slept 
with his head upon his hands. 

"Are you not afraid the minister will return and 
discover us?” I asked. 

"That’s who I am waiting for,” he answered 
grimly. "Go you for the horses and I will be with 
you, for we must on our way.” 

As I brought them from the stable in back of the 
inn, the door was wide. Ranald stood in a flood of 
light streaming out from within. At that moment 
the tall figure of the minister came across the street 
bending low to the storm. Ranald swung into the 
empty saddle and waited. As McGilvery drew 
abreast, he hailed him. "Good e’en to you, Mister 
McGilvery!” 

The minister instantly recognized him and a 

195 



ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 

gleam of triumphant hatred spread across his coun¬ 
tenance. 

"Help!” he cried. "Royalist spies are escaping!” 
And he sprang at the head of Ranald’s nag. It was 
exactly what he had anticipated. Rising in his 
stirrups, he swung aloft a pistol held by the barrel 
and with a crushing blow brought down the heavy 
metal butt square between the minister’s eyes. 

"That’s for you, damn you!” he growled, as his 
victim slumped in the gutter, the water pouring 
over him. "Come on!” And setting spurs to our 
horses, we careered madly down the slippery street 
and into the open road. 


1 96 



*K<<<<<< < << << < - 

CHAPTER XII 

««««««; ■ 


Auldearn 

We rode hard for the first few miles, wet to the 
skin, the horses floundering dangerously in the 
muddy road. Finally Ranald slackened the pace, 
as it was doubtful they would pursue us; for by the 
time they could organize, we would be well beyond 
their reach—and certainly Sir John would not be 
party to it. 

We plodded on in silence, the horses sinking to 
their fetlocks in the mire, heads bent to the blast of 
the wind which howled across the hills and shrieked 
through the valleys like the souls of the damned. 
Great limbs were racked from the trees and hurled 
crashing into the inky black about us. The road 
seemed to lead on endlessly, so dark it was that one 
had the feeling of toiling on for ever in one spot. 

As a dismal dawn lighted our way, we stumbled 
into Aberfeldy, having come but eighteen miles 
since ten of the night before. The town was still 
asleep but by dint of much hammering we finally 
gained admittance from the disgruntled innkeeper, 
who stirred up the peat fire on the hearth and made 

197 




THE HIGHLANDER 
^<<<<<^<<<<<<< < <<^<^<<<<<<<<<<<-<<<<<<<<<< 

us a spiced posset, while we dried our sodden shanks 
on a settle before the blaze. 

No news had he of the north, but promising 
breakfast anon, he left us to doze before the fire. 
Almost too exhausted to eat, I went to the stable 
to see our nags properly rubbed down and fed, 
knowing that a hot gruel would do them almost 
as much good as a night’s rest and, fearing the lousy 
beds of such places, I curled up in the hay and was 
soon asleep. 

Ranald awakened me at eleven, saying the day 
had cleared and that we should push on slowly to 
Blair, a matter of fifteen miles where mayhap we 
would secure fresh mounts. So having partaken of 
another snack, we saddled up and proceeded on our 
way over a road which beggars description. 

The warmth of the sun, together with the rest 
and the rough fare of the inn, had put new heart 
into us, and I blithely whistled a tune, unconscious 
of my companion until arrested by his comment. 

"You’re feeling better about it,” he observed, 
grinning at me. "'Admit now that you are satisfied 
with the night’s proceedings.” 

"Almost,” I admitted grudgingly. 

"Almost! I’ll swear ’tis a hard man to please! 
What more would you have? You saw the maid, 
kept your promise to her, yet in a measure ful¬ 
filled your obligation to the cause. In fact, I have 

198 



AULDEARN 

<<< <<<< <<< < ■ < *<«<«< < < <■ <• « «<-<-<■< < ■<< < ■ <■ 

been thinking that it was a better move than if 
we had taken a hostage. Ardchatten is to be trusted, 
for all he’s a Campbell. Having given his word to 
protect our allies held in duress, he will be more 
useful to us in Edinburgh than he could be in 
irons.” 

He had managed it handsomely, I had to admit. 
"You did splendidly, cousin, and I am sorry for 
my hasty words,” I said. 

"Hoot!” he answered. " ’Tis forgotten. Think 
no more of it. ’Twill not happen again. Hard 
knocks chip the romance off the best of men. One 
learns the honest value of things and yet at times 
is prone to lose much of the joy of living. To me 
a man means one to fight beside for mutual advan¬ 
tage, or against for my own. To you every man 
is to be trusted till he proves faithless. You will be 
scorched as I was—and it will hurt. I have been 
so seared that it no longer bothers me, but I trust 
none till they are proven. Friends I have few, nor 
do I want many. They are a nuisance—they are 
always needing something.” 

"Like me, for instance,” I laughed. 

"That’s different, laddie,” he said seriously. 
"You’re a kinsman. At present I have but two or 
three friends. Old Baron Spatz and my foster 
brother, Duncan. We challenged three Polish of¬ 
ficers and vanquished them before breakfast. The 

199 



THE HIGHLANDER 

Marquis, who is my ideal of a gallant soldier, and 
who has befriended me. And you, laddie, because 
you were so helpless. By God we’ll make a man of 
you yet! But not too much of my pattern. I 
would not wish that on you. I have had my mo¬ 
ments; I have seen life. In the Courts of Europe, 
with my pockets full of gold. I have had boon com¬ 
panions—and titled mistresses by the score. I have 
known the joy of victory on a dozen stricken fields 
and in as many golden beds and there is no ecstasy 
for a man like the twain, condemn them as you will. 
I have known the depths of subjection and despair 
too, which make one value the heights. You will 
miss much of that. I see you rather, when this 
war is over, slipping easily into a comfortable middle 
age, with the woman of your choice beside you, 
adoring her as she will you, surrounded by a covey 
of tiny Sannochs, which you will scare off to bed 
at night with wild tales of Uncle Ranald. That’s 
your horoscope!” 

"How,” I asked, "do you reconcile that bucolic 
scene with my helplessness?” 

"Oh, don’t misunderstand me. You will stand 
the test. You’re helpless still because the making 
of you is unfinished. You’ll get your maid,—you’re 
a Sannoch—but meanwhile you need guidance.” 

"The prospect was none too bright when we 
parted,” I observed bitterly. 

200 



AULDEARN 

Why ? Because she flew off in a dudgeon as you 
had not told her my intent and because we bested 
her father? Rot! Not she! It proves you know 
not of the ways of women. Do you think her fight¬ 
ing Campbell blood would permit her tossing her 
heart to a namby-pamby fool? She wants a man to 
father her children, one that will take what he 
wants and hold it. ’Tis the code she understands. 
There are women too who like to mother men, but 
their lives are not healthy in the Highlands. Never 
fear, you have a stronger place in her affection now 
than you did yesterday morning. A woman— 
strangely enough—has the faculty of continuing to 
love after she loses respect, but she will not be 
happy doing it.” 

"How about McGilvery—think you that will 
help my case?” 

"Why not? She loathed the man. I have no 
doubt her father is as well pleased that he is out 
of the way—he’s been a scourge to the Covenanting 
Party, prying into everyone’s business. And com¬ 
bined with Ardchatten’s promise, ’tis the best stroke 
we could have made to safeguard the Royalist pris¬ 
oners. McGilvery was shrieking to high Heaven for 
their blood.” 

"I had not thought of that. Think you he is 
dead?” 

"Dead as a herring,” he answered breezily. "I 

201 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«««««««■«<« « <■<■< < < «««-«-<■« ««< 

put all I had into it—and never with more satis¬ 
faction.” 

So we chatted along our way, and in the evening 
drew nigh to Blair Atholl. We secured no certain 
news of the Highland army. All they could say was 
that Montrose opposed Hurry somewhere between 
Inverness and Forres. With difficulty we exchanged 
our tired horses despite the generous offer of silver 
to bind the bargain, for there were no posts estab¬ 
lished on the Highland roads. Sleeping at Blair, we 
were off again the next morning, reaching Rothie- 
murchus the same night. The next day we passed 
through Abernethy in the afternoon and crossed the 
Spey some ten miles beyond, where we slept in a 
smithy beside the road. 

To save time, we there took a course to the west 
of the Inverness road, over a rough track, guided 
by the boy of the kindly smith. It was the worst 
part of all our journey. Again it rained in torrents 
and we frequently lost the path. Hitting the road 
to Forres after daylight, we saw that we were in 
the wake of the army. The unmistakable signs 
were all too apparent: scattered bits of discarded 
equipment and dead horses lined the deeply rutted 
road, while corbies and ravens croaked dismally 
overhead. 

We reached a tiny hamlet and there heard the 
news of Auldearn which had been fought the day 

202 



AULDEARN 

-<<<<<<<<<< < <<<<<< <•<< <-<■ 
before. Hurry’s army had been all but extermi¬ 
nated, two thousand men, the flower of the Low¬ 
land Regular regiments had fallen as well as many 
of his best officers, including Sir Munro Campbell 
and nine nephews of the Douglas of Carver, and 
a Murray. 

The army, we were told, had continued on 
towards Elgin. Waiting for no more, we paid the 
boy who was no longer needed and urged on our 
tired horses. Passing through Auldearn we wit¬ 
nessed the ghastly spectacle of a stricken field in all 
its gruesome horror. In the fierce exaltation of 
battle when man’s passions are stoked by the flame 
of fear, hate and vengeance, his eyes are blinded 
by the lust to kill. But the aftermath, unless he is 
swept away from the field on the tide of battle, 
is like the nauseating recovery from a dreadful orgy. 

The sick, sweet stench of stale blood, naked flesh 
turning blue, weird figures in the grotesque pos¬ 
tures of a nightmare, fixed sightless eyes that will 
see no more, gazing pitifully at the sky or balefully 
glaring an undying hate. Such was Auldearn—the 
pigsties and gardens back of the village, on the 
awful slope where Alasdair met the brunt of Hurry’s 
attack, was a shambles. The bodies of the slain lay 
in windrows, whilst from them rose swarms of blue¬ 
bottle flies and bees which had deserted their honey 
for a stronger diet of blood as if gone mad in a mad 

203 





THE HIGHLANDER 
««« « ««« « «««<«■«« « ■<<<«««« 

world. Some of Alasdair’s wild Ulstermen were 
still there with their women—the ghouls, who 
after every engagement haunted the fields to despoil 
alike the dead and the dying, leaving their naked 
bodies to the foxes and the ravens. 

They had caught up some horses of Hurry’s de¬ 
stroyed cavalry from which we secured fresh mounts 
and made haste to quit the horrid scene. Night was 
falling when we beheld the fires of the Highland 
army and were challenged by the outpost. 

We asked the whereabouts of Sir John Stewart, 
from whom we received a hearty welcome. Sitting 
over a cold meal washed down with raw spirits, 
the fine old warrior regaled us with a full account 
of the battle. He told how Montrose pitched his 
camp at the village intending to continue after 
the enemy in the morning. Then the harassed 
Hurry turned to strike like an angry beast at bay, 
and Alasdair hearing their coming on a wet and 
misty morning, spread the alarms. The Marquis 
brilliantly disposed his troops for battle. Discarding 
a centre, he gave the left to Alasdair, on the ridge 
back of the village, entrusting to him the Royal 
Standard, so that Hurry would think that he was 
there in person. He took personal command of the 
reserve infantry on Alasdair’s right, where they 
were concealed by a ridge, hiding his cavalry, under 
Lord Gordon, in a hollow on the extreme left. 

204 



AULDEARN 

Hurry drew up his army in line of battle in 
front of Alasdair with a bog at his back, and ad¬ 
vanced his infantry to the attack with the mass of 
his cavalry held in reserve. 

We heard how the gallant Alasdair, undaunted 
by the fact that he had but five hundred men with 
which to oppose five times their number, rushed 
to njeet the advancing Lowland regiments as they 
emerged from the bog. Like berserks they flung 
themselves down the slope, howling their battle 
cries, swinging their claymores and lopping off 
heads like cabbages. 

Forced back by sheer weight of numbers, his Irish 
and Macdonalds gave ground doggedly, retreating 
foot by foot up the hill, and into the enclosures of 
the village where they fought like madmen. Alas¬ 
dair broke his great sword, but secured another 
from a dying clansman. Beaten to his knees, that 
champion sprang up again and fought on with 
renewed vigour, an inspiration to his followers and 
the terror of his foes, who gave way before the 
swing of his blade. One Western man, wounded a 
score of times, fought on with but his spiked shield, 
an arrow through his cheeks. Highlanders, with 
death wounds, battled like fiends until they dropped, 
then crawled about and stabbed upward with their 
dirks. 

Meanwhile the Marquis released the reserves and 

205 



THE HIGHLANDER 

««< «■<■««««« 

the whole line swept down upon the doomed regi¬ 
ments. They died in their tracks while their in¬ 
fantry and cavalry reserve cravenly fled in panic, 
and the relentless Highland Horse pursued them 
for fourteen miles. 

"And now,” concluded St. John, "what of your 
own adventures?” 

He listened attentively while Ranald gave him 
a brief account of the happenings since we quit 
the army at Crief. Grudgingly he admitted that 
if Ardchatten was to be trusted to hold his promise, 
it would serve as well as if we had secured a hostage, 
but of this he was not sure. Promising to secure 
us an interview with the Marquis at the earliest 
possible moment, he commended us to our beds. 

Rolled in our plaids before the fire, we soon were 
asleep, nor did we awaken until a gillie came in 
the cold, gray dawn with our chests, which upon 
donning our disguise, we had left with the Appin 
men. Once again in the warm kilt and shawl with 
my bonnet on my head and the old broadsword 
by my side, I felt myself and Ranald smiled his 
understanding. 

The army moved early and before evening we 
entered Elgin where after nightfall a messenger 
sought us out, saying that the Marquis desired our 
presence. He was in the best of spirits, for never 
had the cause seemed more promising. Rising, he 

206 



AULDEARN 

greeted us warmly without a hint of dissatisfaction, 
bidding us be seated and tell our story. 

"Sir John, here, has already given me a brief 
summary of your adventures among the godly folk 
of Auld Reekie,” he said with a smile, "but I am 
sure that it will bear retelling in detail. I think I 
have earned an evening’s relaxation, so let us have 
wine and you may amuse us with a fuller account.” 

Ranald warmed to the task and the tale lost 
nothing in his telling. Occasionally, Montrose 
would lean forward and inject a question, but in 
the main he sat back with half-shut eyes, tranquilly 
sipping from a leather jack. But when it came to 
the part which Mactavish played, he was instantly 
alert and shot a quick look of understanding at Sir 
John. 

"So,” he observed, "that would account for 
Master Mactavish not having returned from re¬ 
cruiting his glen. He asked leave to go to his tower 
to beat up the countryside the day after you left 
—nor have we heard of him since. No doubt he 
got wind of your mission from some idly wagging 
tongue, for I cannot think that any on my council 
would deliberately play us false. But this is a grave 
charge that you bring, Captain. The man has pow¬ 
erful friends—have you proof with which to face 
them?” 

"That have I!” and reaching into a pocket, Ran- 

207 




THE HIGHLANDER 
< ««««« « «« ■ «< ■ < < <-«-<■<■< «■ <■ < « «< « « 

aid brought forth the incriminating letter to Mc- 
Gilvery. 

The Marquis held it to the light and scanned it 
rapidly. "There,” he said tossing it over to Sir John, 
"do you know his hand?” 

The laird read it carefully. "Aye, ’tis his, I make 
no doubt.” 

"Then ’tis enough to hang him! Who would 
think the man’s personal enmity would lead him 
to betrayal—what reason has he, Sannoch, for so 
hating you?” 

I told them of our grave suspicions, fostered by 
Cameron’s disclosure of the loan from my father 
which David had tried to collect on the day of his 
death. And of the two attempts made upon my 
life during the Argyllshire raid. 

" ’Tis plausible,” said the Marquis, "and I make 
no doubt but that had he been successful in con¬ 
triving your capture and execution in Edinburgh, 
he would have returned brazenly to betray us 
further.” 

When Ranald had finished relating our adven¬ 
tures, the Marquis sat for a while in thought. I 
watched the play of the flickering candlelight upon 
his features—this man who was so young and had 
accomplished so much. Then, lifting his head, 
"On first thought it would appear that you had 
failed, and yet I am inclined to feel in the end it 

208 



AULDEARN 

« «< < <<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<< <■<■<-<-«<««<«■<-<-<- 

will turn for the best. I was prepared for failure. 
Foreseeing the difficulties of your undertaking— 
barring the best of luck—I hoped for little from 
this first attempt save valuable information and 
the laying of plans for another try. But you have 
uncovered Mactavish, apparently you have dis¬ 
posed of McGilvery, the greatest enemy of our 
friends in jeopardy. The Covenant will call it as¬ 
sassination and therein lies a danger as they may 
demand reprisals. Yet I know Campbell of Ard- 
chatten to be a man of his word, and I shall rest 
easier for Napier and the rest. You have done 
well—both of you,” he added looking from one to 
the other. "As you have heard, Captain, we are now 
well equipped with horse. As a reward I will trans¬ 
fer those under O’Cahan to your command—he is 
a better leader of infantry in any case, and un¬ 
schooled in the European method of cavalry attack.” 

Flushed with pride, Ranald thanked him and 
then added that we had another plan to expound. 

"Which is?” 

"My lord, Glen Sannoch is in danger. Having 
proven our case against Mactavish, let us kill two or 
three birds with one stone. Give us half a troop 
and let us go to its rescue and, at the same time, try 
for the capture of him. There can be no safety for 
Sannoch or its laird as long as this man lives. Failing 
to take him at his own tower we can, at the most, 

209 



THE HIGHLANDER 
« « «« « ««<■«■«■«■«■««««■«<«««« 

regain the army in three weeks and bring back the 
Sannoch men with us. If, as I believe, we shall ac¬ 
complish the destruction of Mactavish’s tower, 
there will at least be peace for the glen—while the 
men are away.” 

Silence reigned in the room while Montrose sat 
weighing the matter in the balance. 

"What think you, Stewart?” 

"My lord, it will be a lesson to others of the vil¬ 
lain’s ilk which should be taught. And you can 
hardly refuse young Sannoch the favour. Further¬ 
more, it will of a certainty result in the ultimate in¬ 
crease in your force by the weight of his men which, 
few as they be, will be welcome. And if they make 
good the chastising of Mactavish they should be 
able to leave their own glen in comparative safety 
with few to guard it. I say, let them go.” 

I thanked the laird for his support while the 
Marquis took a turn about the room. 

"I wanted you to start training this new cavalry 
of Gordon’s,” he said to Ranald. "They behaved ad¬ 
mirably at Auldearn, but they are raw and may not 
always have such rare opportunity as it afforded. 
Then again, I cannot spare the men you ask. Every 
one is important to me. Hurry is disposed of—but 
there is still Baillie and that braggart, Lindsey. 
While I hold my force I must follow them till they 
fight—then and not till then, is the Lowland cam- 

210 



AULDEARN 

<<<< <<<< < <- < -< <<<<<<■<<<<<<<■< < < 

paign possible. Until we get into the Lowlands, 
these victories mean but little assistance to His 
Majesty.” 

"My lord,” persisted Ranald, "three weeks are 
not much, and I doubt that you will fight another 
major engagement before that. We have heard 
Baillie is moving on Strathspey, and to oppose him 
you will have to move in the direct route from here 
to Sannoch. Let us continue with you and if, as is 
his way, he refuses battle, give us leave to go. We 
could regain the army in two weeks if necessary.” 

"So be it, then. I shall give you leave under those 
terms, but I cannot spare half a troop. A squad 
you can have fully equipped with muskets and 
pistols. That should sufficiently augment Sannoch’s 
men—if they are filled with the zeal of revenge.” 

And so it was settled. Ranald went to work, 
training his cavalry while the Marquis graciously 
attached me to his personal staff against the time 
when I should again lead my men to him. 

A few days later we marched out of Elgin, and 
went to Strathbogie, where Baillie had been raid¬ 
ing and burning the countryside. We succeeded in 
outmanoeuvring him on the Spey, passing through 
Balveny and Glenlievat. West, we tramped to 
Abernethy, and Rothiemurchus, drawing ever 
nearer to Atholl. Baillie withdrew to Inverness, to 
secure supplies which left the road open to face 

211 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«« «<-«< <■<<<<<<<<<<<<■<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<< 

Lindsey in Atholl, but the news of our coming was 
sufficient to send him scuttling back into Angus. 

The Marquis prepared to turn west again into 
Glen Muick, and he sent for us saying that since he 
despaired of drawing Lindsey into battle, we might 
take the opportunity while so near home to settle 
our accounts and rejoin him as soon as we were 
able. 


212 



CHAPTER XIII 
^<<<<< - <<<<<<<< 


Sannoch Again 

Ranald chose his men with care, eight stalwart 
fellows who had been under his eye. He conned 
their equipment with the discernment of the veteran 
commander and, tossing the corporal a silver shilling, 
bade him take them for a tankard, the better to start 
our expedition auspiciously. 

We trooped off two by two, riding at a slow, but 
steady pace until well past noon, when we unsad¬ 
dled beside a stream to let the horses feed and rest, 
then on again into the quiet twilight. The evening 
was still and, save for the creak of leather, the scuff 
of the horses 5 hooves on the soft road and the occa¬ 
sional lowing of distant cattle, no sound caught 
our ears. 

Late in the night we reached Blair Atholl, having 
made thirty-six miles in some eighteen hours. Anx¬ 
ious as I was to reach Sannoch with all possible 
speed, I questioned Ranald as to the need for setting 
such a pace, for I knew that after such a long 

213 




THE HIGHLANDER 
««««<««■<■«<«■ « «««««■«■« «« <« 

march neither man nor beast would be fit the fol¬ 
lowing morning. 

He explained that he intended timing his start 
so that we would approach the glen from the south¬ 
east late in the afternoon, to have plenty of time in 
the late evening to scout the country before ap¬ 
proaching the tower. On the one hand, if Mac- 
tavish had invested the old place, there would be 
less chance of our being surprised, and more of sur¬ 
prising them. And if they had already taken the 
tower and departed, or been beaten off, it was quite 
likely—in fact, almost a certainty—that so expe¬ 
rienced a raider would leave one or two hidden to 
give warning of our coming. 

The following morning, after a careful inspec¬ 
tion, we continued on our way. Being near home 
I discarded my nag and the detestable breeks for 
the comfort of my kilt and continued afoot in the 
capacity of guide. 

We crossed the shoulder of Schiehallion, grim 
sentinel of the Highlands, and continued south¬ 
westerly towards the Lyon with Loch Tay agleam 
in the distance. No living thing came under our 
eyes in the lonesome heather save an occasional band 
of hinds or the grouse which we scared up in our 
path. 

Unobserved by any of the Glen Lyon folk, we 
cautiously approached the braes of Sannoch, and in 

214 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

the dusk looked down from a high place at the 
sturdy tower which had protected my forefathers 
for three centuries. 

Hiding the little troop in a bracken clad dell some 
distance from the tower, I stole alone over a cow- 
path to the valley to scout the way in. Approaching 
a hillside croft, my nose arrested me and I stood like 
a stag to sniff the air. There was smoke in it, that I 
knew, and a chill premonition of evil swept over 
me. Had we come too late? I stood and listened; 
nothing broke the stillness but the plaintive wail of 
plover in the valley and the rustle of the ever- 
restive birches. 

Creeping forward in the gathering gloom, I saw 
that the wee croft was deserted and boldly strode 
to it. The gutted walls were all that remained, from 
which an acrid smoke still emerged. Fragments of 
broken crockery, a child’s doll, and bits of the shat¬ 
tered furniture of the unfortunate inhabitants lit¬ 
tered the ground. Even the haycock had been 
fired. But, cast about me as I would, there was no 
evidence of strife, which argued that the occupants 
had had timely warning and escaped to the Hold. 

Returning, I described what I had discovered and 
we proceeded more boldly. The little hamlet, which 
nestled in the glen below the tower, was in the same 
desolate state, empty and silent. Houses in ruin— 
their walls blackened and crumbling; gardens trod- 

215 





THE HIGHLANDER 
«« ««« « «««< < ■ <« «■ « «« ««««<« 

den under and fruit trees girdled. The sties and 
byres were empty. Everything which could walk 
had been driven off by the marauders, save a wary 
shepherd dog which barked its warning from a safe 
distance. Gazing about me, appalled by the havoc, 
I realized that Sannoch was faced with ruin. It 
had taken years, under the kindly patronage of my 
father, to build up from the ancient feudal system 
of the glens that which, in a single night, had been 
swept away by the ruthless hand of Mactavish. 

I contemplated the cruel misery of the coming 
winter with impotent tears in my eyes. Rooftrees 
gone; crops despoiled; no wool for clothing; no milk 
or porridge for crying bairns. And slowly my feel¬ 
ing of self-pity and commiseration for the plight of 
my poor people changed. Something came over 
me that I had never known before. The blood rushed 
to my brain; a fierce rage shook me. I felt that I 
could beat in Mactavish’s door with my fists and 
throttle him barehanded. Unconsciously I grasped 
my dirk and whispered hoarsely to the heavens. 

"Christ! They shall pay! For every life I shall 
have two—and for every blackened roof tree! They 
think this waste—they’ll see waste! There’s no 
room in these glens for a Mactavish and a Sannoch 
both. Their valleys will so stink with their rotten 
gore that not even their own vile nostrils will stand 
the stench!!” 


216 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

I heard Ranald’s hard laugh beside me. 

"Good! I have waited long for this. Now you 
are ready, Sannoch, to face your man. I taught you 
all I could of fence, but you were not prepared; 
you had not in you the urge to kill, just a boyish 
petulance. Now, you can take on Mactavish where 
and when you will and as sure as the sun rises you 
will spit him like a capon! He has made you suffer 
and you are a man at last.” 

"You will bear with me till ’tis done?” 

"Bear with you? For what did I come? Have 
I not said we are bound together by more than kin¬ 
ship? And there is no more willing helper at the 
grindstone than one with his own knife to sharpen. 
You say there is no place for a Mactavish on your 
borders. To that I agree—and methinks there will 
be little warmth in my welcome from Seaforth 
when I return. In a few years I will be getting over¬ 
stiff for the saddle, my sword will sell cheaper, 
women will be more difficult and armed camps but 
chill comfort. What better than that I could carve 
out a new home for my Ronan men adjoining you, 
with a safe resting place for my old age?” 

"None better!” I cried. 

"Good! Then, ’tis as well as done, save for a 
few sharp blows. Your hand on it, laddie—we’re 
neighbours now!” 

I grasped a stirrup the better to reach the Hold 

217 



THE HIGHLANDER 

quickly and at a canter we left the village and 
turned right through a grove of ancient beeches 
which obscured the pleasance before the tower. A 
burn ran through the centre of it and the clatter 
of our horses as we crossed the tiny bridge aroused 
the watchers on the parapet. There was a roar 
and a slug sang viciously overhead. 

Running forward I made myself known, crying 
to them to desist. In answer there was a cheer. 
We saw a light appear in some upper loopholes and, 
with a clatter and bang, the sturdy little door opened 
and Dougal rushed out. Tears running down his 
rugged cheeks, he clutched me in his great paws 
and crushed me to his breast like a bear. 

"Ah kenned you’d come,” he cried. "Ah ne’er 
dooted it, whatever.” 

Then abashed at his impetuosity, he stepped back, 
passed a fist across his face and with dignity greeted 
the smiling Ranald. Men, women, and children 
swarmed out of the tiny door, stumbling over yap¬ 
ping dogs and bleating sheep which followed them, 
laughing, crying, cheering, "Ta laird is hame!” 
crowding about the troopers to greet them like long 
lost brothers. 

As we entered the old hall I was astounded. I 
had never seen the clansmen come in for refuge, 
though my father had twice in his time and God 
knows how many times it had happened before. The 

218 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

««« «« < < <-«< <<<<<<<<<< «■<■<: 

sparse furniture of the place was stacked in a corner 
and all the rest of the wall space lined with closely 
packed cattle, with here and there a horse or an ass 
amongst them. Sheep and hogs were everywhere 
and, on the backs of the patient cattle roosted the 
fowl. In the rear of the place was a high walled en¬ 
closure flanked by a wing of the tower which formed 
a shallow ell. Into this the horses were led and as 
we entered the hold, the door was slammed to and 
the heavy bars reset. 

Torches were lighted and set in brackets upon 
the wall and we sat down to a hearty meal while 
the wondering cattle gazed at us out of mildly 
startled eyes. A cask of old spirits was brought up 
from below so that all might fittingly toast our 
welcome and then Dougal gave us an account of the 
raid. 

Jock had reached Sannoch some three days after 
he left us and immediately warning was sent to the 
countryside. Much of the clansmen’s meagre pos¬ 
sessions were brought in and the enclosure filled 
with cattle while the rest of the beasts were herded 
near the tower for safety. Nothing further hap¬ 
pened and, despite Dougal’s advice, many of them 
wished to return to tend their crops. A week passed 
and the murmuring grew apace. So posting some 
lads in the surrounding hills to give warning of the 
approach of any considerable body, he let half go 

219 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«« «< ■«« « ■ « ■*««« « «««« « « « «« 

home, keeping the rest to garrison the tower until 
those released returned to relieve them. Another 
week passed and the men grew impatient of the re¬ 
straint. Then suddenly the blow struck. In the 
grey dawn, a lad came running into the village, 
screaming that raiders were on his heels. Those in 
the village caught up their little ones and ran for 
the Hold where a great smoke was made on the 
battlement to warn the outlying crofts. Rory Oig 
gathered a few with firelocks to go forward and 
hold up the raiders, while the rest ran to bring the 
pastured sheep and cattle in. Rory’s party fired a 
volley which momentarily checked the advance 
but was forced to fall back in face of the greater 
numbers. From the battlement the frightened 
tenants watched the burning of their village. In 
a few hours it was a smouldering heap of coals. 
Then, one by one, columns of smoke rose to the 
sky from the outlying steading, amidst wails of 
anguish from the poor people who saw their years 
of toil and effort disappear before their eyes. 

Dougal went on to tell how they heard shots in 
the distance and from the east battlement saw 
Hector Maclean, with his wife and two tots, racing 
over the brae toward the Hold, half a dozen of 
Mactavish’s clansmen in hot pursuit. The woman 
faltered and Hector turned to face the foe. He 
fired a pistol, and one rolled down the hillside, then 

220 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

drawing his claymore, he swung and cut down an¬ 
other and fell beneath a smother of blows while 
his wife and children were slaughtered before the 
eyes of the horrified audience on the tower. 

"Were there any more taken?” I asked and I did 
not know my own voice—it seemed strange and 
far away. 

"None that we ken, though there are three fam¬ 
ilies out. ’Tis thought that they wisely took to the 
hills and are still afeared to come in.” 

"How many fighting men do you muster,” asked 
Ranald, "counting all but lads too young and those 
beyond use?” 

"A score and two, counting your man Jock.” 

"And we bring nine — with ourselves it’s eleven 
—thirty-three in all. How many estimate you had 
Mactavish?” 

"A score more, at least.” 

"So strong! Were they all Mactavish’s? I knew 
not he could muster so many.” 

"No,” said Dougal, with a shake of his head. 
"They were no’ all of his accursed crew; some 
Menzies joined them—that I would swear to.” 

"So, they would take you between the upper 
and the nether millstone, would they, but are you 
sure? 

"I am certain,” I said, breaking into the conversa¬ 
tion, "Mactavish musters but few, if any more than 

221 




THE HIGHLANDER 
««< «■< < «<■<■«««« 

we can. Therefore, if, as Dougal says, there were 
more than thirty odd, he had assistance—either they 
were Covenanter men which he brought with him, 
as we did our troopers, or he had assistance from 
nearby and I can think of no one that would join 
him against us, unless it were the Menzies. 

"Aye,” said Rory, breaking in. "They must ha’ 
been Menzies, as the laird says. Mactavish has no’ so 
many. We dinna’ countet them, but there were 
close to threescore, including those which fell.” 

"Say you they attacked the tower?” 

"Ah, weel, they no attacket, so ta speak, but 
they came up wi’ bra show of force after they 
burned the countryside and demanded the sur¬ 
render of the tower in the name of Estates, bidding 
the laird show himself on the wall. Dougal told 
’em he’d parley for ye as they were beneath a 
Sannoch’s notice. They brought up a tree then to 
beat in the door, but a volley fra’ the wall laid out 
a brace and Dougal hurled down a great stane 
which got one or more and they beat a hasty re¬ 
treat. So with the twa which Elector got, poor 
laddie, there is five or six of them killed or 
wounded.” 

"Hum,” said Ranald. "This is food for thought. 
Two courses lie open to us, one to follow them up 
now and trust to surprise. They will not expect 
quick retaliation, for they’ll naturally argue if 

222 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

strong enough to raid into their glens you would 
have sallied forth to save your own. It has also this 
in its favour: they do not know that you were 
strengthened by the troopers, and undoubtedly their 
Menzies have gone home!” 

"Aye,” nodded Dougal. 

"On the other hand, you can bide your time. Give 
me a fortnight to ride north into my own country 
and I promise to return with a score of stout lads 
of Dougal’s breed and we’ll sweep the country of 
them.” 

"We promised to regain the Army in two weeks,” 
I reminded him. 

"True, we did, but the Marquis never anticipated 
this—and if the shilly-shallying Menzies are at last 
showing their hand, he will forgive the delay if we 
offer them just chastisement.” 

"What is it ye propose to do?” growled Dougal. 
"The advice is guid either way, dependin’ on yer 
intent. Do ye aim to root out the deils once and 
for all? If the former it is, we hae enough, but if 
’tis as it should be, let us wait an’ do it right, for 
we need more men.” 

I stepped into the centre of the circle before the 
blaze and faced them. Something told me that the 
time had come to show my mettle and really assume 
the leadership of the little clan. That something 
whispered that they waited to hear me declare my- 

223 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< «« < ■ « ■< < < «<« 

self and that upon the decision rested the force of 
my leadership for all time. 

"Men of Sannoch, this is our battle. Our fore¬ 
fathers, yours and mine, held these glens, and if we 
deserve them we need no help.” 

A howl went up from the pack, but quickly sub¬ 
sided as I held aloft a hand for quiet. A little sea 
of faces glared up fiercely happy into mine. Men 
growled their approval, nodding and slapping each 
other on the back. 

"We are few, aye. But we are right. You who 
followed the gallant Montrose last winter saw him 
menaced from three sides, by forces each of which 
was stronger than his own. Did he falter? What 
you helped him do at Inverary, you can do again 
for Sannoch. We’ll start in the morning. If we 
come limping home, it will be time enough to look 
to Captain Mackenzie for aid.” 

Midst the acclaim of my followers I looked at 
him, to see how he had taken this refusal of his 
proffer, fearful that his thin skin, which he had 
thought so thick, might have again been bruised. 
But he nodded his approval and fought his way 
through the press to take my hand that all might see, 
whispering, "Now, Sannoch, you are acting like a 
leader.” 

The hall was the scene of wild enthusiasm in 
which the women joined as readily as the men. An 

224 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

«<« <««« < << <<<<<<< << <<< <<<<<<<<-<-<<<<-<-<- 

ancient crone, toothless and bent, threw back her 
head and screamed curses on Mactavish and all his 
brood. 

"Who is she?” asked Ranald. "A Maclean, you 
say. She has cause, God wot!” 

Old Angus secured his pipes, and the pibroch 
skirled through the rafters as it had periodically for 
centuries. Men, wild with drink and hysteria, 
danced and sang and yelled. The place was like a 
madhouse. Grimly complacent, I gazed upon the 
uproar, the thought crossing my mind that I who 
had been taught by my mother that this clannish 
warfare was the root of all Scotland’s sorrow, had 
whipped into flame the embers of hate. Then came 
a picture of the Macleans fleeing to the tower, of 
David’s body stark upon the lonely moor, of the 
cruel raids of my father’s younger days, which 
had sapped the man power of our glen, and I knew 
that, right or wrong, it must be Sannoch first, if 
we were to survive. 

"You are satisfied with your work?” I turned 
to find Ranald observing me and as usual he had 
read my thoughts. 

"I am,” I answered with finality. 

"You have weighed the results? You will go 
through with it—there can be no halfway measure, 
you know, or it were far better that you did not 

start.” 


225 



THE HIGHLANDER 
«< < ■<< ««■««- < -« < «■<■ « «■«« « «« «< < 

”1 shall go through with it—I have but one re¬ 
gret—the necessity.” 

"Good!” he answered. "And now to business.” 

Mixing with the crowd he singled out some of 
the most dependable to pursue certain tasks. For 
there was much to be done; food was to be prepared 
and bullets run, powder flasks filled, claymores and 
axes to be ground. And in the early morning, midst 
the tears and cheers of the valiant womenfolk, the 
little band sallied forth and took the road to retri¬ 
bution. 

Old Angus, strutting like a capercailzie, led with 
his pipes. Then came the clansmen followed by 
Ranald and the horse. I walked by his stirrup for a 
ways, before taking my place in the lead. 

"How,” I asked, "think you the troopers fared?” 
I was anxious that there should be the warmest feel¬ 
ing between our Lowland allies and the clan, for 
our Highland people took a bit of knowing. 

"Oh, excellently!” he laughed. "In fact, from 
what I saw last night, I would not be surprised if 
there were a new crop of bairns upon the braes of 
Sannoch in the spring—wearing wee cavalry boots 
and tiny sabres.” 

"After all, why not,” I answered more to myself. 
"What else have the poor creatures to offer but a 
moment’s joy and the ability to propagate the spe¬ 
cies of their protectors?” 


226 



SANNOCH AGAIN 

Nothing—it is as it should be—’tis the soldier’s 
prize since the days of Mars. But your reconcilia¬ 
tion to it, laddie, is a sign that you have passed an¬ 
other milestone on the path of life.” And he bent 
down to poke me in the ribs. 

As we neared the marches of our land, four 
picked bowmen went ahead to scout the way and 
silently dispose of any watchers left by the raid¬ 
ers to give warning of pursuit on their back track. 

Later, our progress was arrested by a signal from 
the stalkers to stop and one of them ran back to re¬ 
port that a sentinel had been spied upon a high 
place which commanded our approach. While we 
rested in the shadow of a small wood, the cavalcade 
came up—which, for better concealment, had kept 
well to the rear. After a consultation it was de¬ 
cided that they should make a wide detour, to take 
the peak from the rear, and that giving them time 
to encircle it, the stalkers would then openly ad¬ 
vance and drive the watchers into their hands. 

We gave the troopers two hours to accomplish 
the detour and the bowmen again advanced. We 
could not see what occurred, but when the cavalry 
rode back and took up their accustomed place be¬ 
hind us, they reported two raiders the less. 

At long last we looked down into the glen. Along 
the hillsides the smoke rose lazily from the croft 
where the evening meal was preparing just as it 

227 




THE HIGHLANDER 

had at Sannoch before their torches laid it low. 
In the middle distance lay the village, a munificent 
sun casting its blessing upon it as it had upon ours, 
but my heart was hard. 

"Shall we attack now?” I asked Ranald. He 
laughed scornfully. 

"No, Captain Impetuous, we’ll do no such thing. 
We will slip back quietly to yonder woods, which 
we should not have left had I known we approached 
so near. There, we will bivouac till dawn. And not 
a fire is to be lighted, mind, nor anyone stray from 
its cover.” 

Finding a likely place under the great firs beside 
a brook we sat down together to a cold meal. Ranald 
called Dougal to him and bade him send men back 
to the spying place to handle any who might be 
sent to relieve the watches we had disposed of. 

Then with Rory Oig and Dougal we held a coun¬ 
cil of war. Ranald explained that it would have been 
a grave mistake to show ourselves that evening as 
there would have been insufficient light in which to 
do the task well. The old warrior nodded in obvious 
agreement. 

"Furthermore,” he continued, "I have a plan: 
last night the laird referred to Montrose at Inverary. 
Let us now apply his strategy at Auldearn to our 
case. We know that we are outnumbered some two 
to one, yet we hold an ace—the troopers of which 

228 



SANNOCH AGAIN 


<;<■ «<<< < <<<<<< <<<< <<< <<. < . <<<<<<<< ^^ << . < . 

they know nothing and will expect less. Properly 
handled they may well turn the tide in our favour. 
To be honest with you, had it not been for them 
and the thought of this plan, I would not have lent 
myself to your laird’s decision to attack before I 
brought you reinforcements. 

"At dawn divide your force into two parts. You, 
Rory, command one, and Dougal, you take the 
other with your chief. Swiftly gobble up the nearby 
steadings, but lose no time doing it. Your aim is 
the village. Join there and strike swiftly. You 
should have at the most an hour before the defend¬ 
ers arm and sally forth to the rescue. Then you will 
be outnumbered despite what inroads you have 
made upon the village. Immediately you see them 
emerge from the tower, fall back rapidly towards 
these woods—time your flight so that they will 
catch up with you just at the summit of the path. 
I shall hold the horsemen here under cover of the 
woods. ’Tis but two hundred paces to where you 
will make your stand. The turf here is hard and 
dry, with sufficient room to form the troopers and 
charge. Face slightly north, so they will not see 
us until we are upon them. Then, when they think 
they have you, we will take them in the flank and 
—as at Auldearn—methinks we can ride them 
down. 

"And now,” concluded Ranald, "you, Dougal, 

229 



THE HIGHLANDER 

and Rory, return to the men and explain the plan, 
for it is best, in a small force such as ours, that every¬ 
one should be fully informed of his part.” And 
drawing out his pipe, he sat smoking in the long 
summer twilight as if he had naught to do on the 
morrow but catch a trout for his breakfast. 




230 



««««<<<<<■<■< 

CHAPTER XIV 


The V engeance 

Dougal leaned over and shook me. Chilled 
through, I cast aside my plaid and stood up stiffly. 

"Come,” he said, " ’Tis time we were awaV’ 

The men were already gathered. None had eaten 
—none wanted to eat; an empty belly was better 
for such work as we had to do. I wondered how 
many would breakfast when the bloody work was 
done and shivered, more from excitement than the 
cold. 

A soft grey light covered the heather. Stars 
still twinkled brightly overhead and a drenching 
dew lay upon the ground. The troopers were bring¬ 
ing in their mounts, picketed throughout the night 
to gain such grazing as they could. A horse coughed 
and, resenting such early disturbance, an old cock 
grouse sounded his challenge. 

The band split in two. I went off to the right 
with Dougal by my side, his great axe over his 
shoulder. Red Wallace and tall young Colin, my 
leine-chrion, fell in behind, and the rest followed 

231 





THE HIGHLANDER 


«« « ■ < ■« < < ««-< «« «««■<««■ <■««««« 

as we skirted the edge of the moor. All firearms 
had been left behind at the rallying place—primed, 
ready and covered with plaids. Death stalked si¬ 
lently in the glen, the Lochaber and claymore being 
his attendants. 

Stealthily we approached the nearest croft, still 
peacably asleep. A sharp spear of light, yellow as 
molten gold, crept over the western peaks. A cock 
crew. Dougal stepped to the door. His axe swung 
aloft and fell with a crash. Another blow and, the 
door riven at the hinges, was pried loose by the 
clansmen who swarmed in. A shrill scream, muffled 
curses and the sound of scuffling, then they emerged 
again, dragging the women and children who stood 
clutching each other in silent, wide-eyed terror. 
Someone ran out with a torch, lighted on the 
smouldering hearth, and set it to the thatch. Others 
sped on to the next croft. I shall pass over the rest 
of this horrid scene. Let it suffice that when we 
reached the village there was a wake of ruin behind 
us. 

Some of the inhabitants, taking early alarm, 
roused others and made off to the Hold, but several 
tardy ones were caught and went down fighting 
desperately with their backs to their walls. Mean¬ 
while the torch was busy and a thick pall rose to 
soil the dawn. 

Dougal stood in the centre of the single street, a 

232 



THE VENGEANCE 
< < < <<<<<< 

ruddy symbol of hate, shouting directions, but with 
one eye ever on the tower half a mile away. As the 
roofs blazed higher, we saw a dark mass emerge from 
it, with here and there a glint of steel, catching the 
reflection of our fires. Promptly I sounded my horn 
to which the men rallied and in a body we retreated 
towards the high ground from whence we had 
come. 

Those who escaped from the village had greatly 
augmented the force in the tower, so that it was 
easy to see in the morning light that we were out¬ 
numbered two to one. They came on rapidly, 
urged by two mounted men. One of them on a 
white horse appeared to be Mactavish. 

The distance between the two forces was rapidly 
closing. Taking in the situation with the cool, 
appraising eye of the veteran raider, Dougal pressed 
our retreat to greater speed. Yet when finally we 
gained the summit and uncovered the weapons, 
the enemy were less than a furlong behind, shouting 
and brandishing their weapons. Seeing us turn at 
bay, their leader paused and formed his men in 
battle array, a long line two deep with the tips 
well forward so that they appeared like a shallow 
crescent. Dougal placed me in the centre, with his 
most stalwart swordsmen on the wings to prevent 
flanking, the greatest danger from their longer 
front. 


233 



THE HIGHLANDER 

Suddenly with a fierce Highland yell they bore 
down upon us. I glanced towards the woods, but 
there was no sign of Ranald. 

"Give the word,” shouted Dougal. 

A withering volley took them by surprise, but 
they came on unchecked. Crying "Sannocb” I 
sprang forward. The shooters dropped their fire¬ 
locks and took to their swords, as a man they dashed 
forward to meet the foe. There was a crash as the 
two lines struck, with shouting and cursing. En¬ 
graved on my memory is a nightmare of panting, 
sweating, fiercely set white faces struggling silently 
save for the quick catch of breath and the clang 
of steel. 

I cut at an opponent who caught the blow on 
his targe and thrust viciously in return. As I coun¬ 
tered with a riposte, mighty Dougal who had 
disposed of his man, swung a back-hander and 
my adversary disappeared in the melee. 

The man on the white horse again appeared 
riding behind his line. It was Mactavish, who 
pointed his sword at me and bellowed instructions 
to his followers. The leine-chrion drew so close 
about me that I could not wield my sword: claymore 
to right and Lochaber to left, cutting a swath 
through our enemies and keeping it cleared about 
us. Mactavish, standing in his stirrups, aimed a 
pistol, and as I ducked and threw up my targe, the 

234 



THE VENGEANCE 

bullet crashed into it. The next moment a claymore 
descended, cutting deep into its tough rim, but 
before the wielder could free his blade, I thrust 
upward into his bowels, and with a scream, he 
dropped as Dougal snatched me back from the press. 
For a moment we were free. 

They pressed us hard. We were retreating slowly. 
Borne back by sheer weight of numbers, the last 
of our little clan, which had once held its head so 
high, was fighting like a band of champions. But 
the odds were too great. Here were no Lowland 
levies who would turn and flee at the first Highland 
yell, but clansmen like ourselves, who could fight 
valiantly, however vile their cause. 

Had we been alone, Sannoch would have gone 
down forever in those few awful minutes at the 
head of the glen. But suddenly there was a shrill 
cheer, and with a thunder of hoofs the squad of 
cavalry bore down upon their flank. A less skilful 
commander would have taken them full in the rear 
and gone through us both, but Ranald had learned 
the handling of Horse under the finest commander 
of Europe. Leaning forward in their stirrups, his 
troopers hit the flank and flung it back on their 
centre. Startled, they hesitated and we came at them 
with renewed vigour, whilst the horsemen, veterans 
of Fyvie and Auldearn, laid about them on all sides. 
Led by Dougal, his axe rising and falling, and the 

235 




THE HIGHLANDER 


«« < «■< <<<<■< < <<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<<■< « <■ <■<■« < < ««* 

fanatical Rory Oig, shrieking like a fiend, with 
tears streaming down his ghastly face as he per¬ 
formed prodigies of valour, we broke through their 
centre. The survivors, scattering like partridge, 
broke and ran in every direction. 

Mactavish turned to ride away and Ranald 
spurred to intercept him. The villain drew another 
pistol and, coolly waiting until his opponent was 
almost at swordspoint, shot his mount full in the 
head. As the poor brute reared, Ranald nimbly 
threw himself clear, and, as he sprang to his feet, 
Mactavish galloped after his companion who had 
already quit the field. Here and there his clansmen 
continued to fight in twos and threes asking no 
quarter and expecting none. 

Ranald ran towards me. "Quick!” he cried, 
"gather some men and make for the tower. If the 
devils get there before us, we will never dislodge 
them.” 

Colin and Wallace were still by me, sticking like 
leeches. Calling to others, we raced down the glen, 
as Ranald turned back to secure a horse and collect 
his troopers. Overtaking us before we reached the 
blazing village, they thundered by and when we 
reached the tower, panting for breath, they were 
sitting their blown horses before its stout door. 

Said Ranald, "The old fox was too smart to go to 
ground in a blank earth, from which we might draw 

236 



THE VENGEANCE 

^<<<< <<<<<<<<<<<<< <<■<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<.« < «<<<< < 

him. Had he left a garrison here, he could have held 
the place despite our best efforts, without siege 
artillery, but he took all in your pursuit—confident 
in his ability to exterminate you. And when we 
cut off their retreat from the field, he knew that the 
jig was up.” 

They told how Mactavish had distanced them, 
and drawing rein before his tower, sat looking back 
towards the hills, where he had deserted his men. 
Well he knew, as Ranald said, that the jig was up, 
and I could imagine the hell of passion raging in his 
black heart when he realised that at long last his 
evil scheming had gone astray. 

They said he sat his restive white horse under the 
walls of his aerie, until, apprehensive of the approach 
of Ranald’s horsemen his companion laid hand upon 
his rein and sought to move him. Then, with a last 
look at its walls and an angry gesture, he turned 
and they galloped off, to disappear in the west. 

The clansmen followed us slowly and, borrowing 
a horse, I left Ranald to watch the tower and re¬ 
traced my steps through the village to hurry them, 
knowing well that the stragglers would stop to 
pillage and, with their blood up, would be in no 
mood to desist for anyone but me. 

Trotting through the gutted town, with some¬ 
thing akin to the feeling of a conquering hero, I 
was arrested by a woman keening beside the road. 

237 



THE HIGHLANDER 

She was a handsome wench of the Highland breed, 
and she sat against the wall of a still smouldering 
hovel with the head of a fallen warrior in her lap. 
Her long, black hair hung over her face so that I 
could not see it until, hearing my horse stop beside 
her, she looked up and glared balefully at me, her 
fierce eyes venomous as those of an aroused beast. 

The man was quite dead. There was a great cleft 
in the side of his pate. Foolishly I told her so, where¬ 
upon she stood up. Colin, who had followed me, 
realising what was to come, crossed himself as if 
to ward off an evil spell. He sought to lead my horse 
away but I shook him off. I was in no mood to be 
frightened by curses that day. Raising her arm ., 
she called down the malediction of heaven, she 
cursed me, cursed my unborn children and all that 
came before me in a manner which, at another tim?, 
would have sent me shuddering upon my way. Bui 
I knew that the unhappy women of Sannoch had 
done the same in the past and, driving her curses 
from my mind, continued on my quest. 

I met Dougal and Rory Oig bringing on the ruck, 
who carried rough litters. Four of the clansmen and 
one trooper had been killed, not to speak of three 
others sore wounded. Almost every one bore some 
manner of flesh wound as mute testimony to his 
part in the strife. But most of the injuries were of a 
superficial nature to which those hardened warriors 

238 



THE VENGEANCE 

««<«««< <<<<<<<< < <<<<<<<<<<<<<<< <■<■<<-<-< 
were inured. The MacNeal sept had suffered badly, 
John had been killed and his brother lay groaning on 
a litter from a terrible wound in his neck. It was 
plain that little could be done for him and that his 
time was short. 

I asked Dougal how many of our adversaries had 
been accounted for, but he shook his head. 

"Ah have no’ the tally yet, but mon, it was a 
bonnie fit! ’Twas better tha’ Inverlochy. A score 
and more they left upon the field before they fled, 
which does not account for those overtaken in the 
early surprise. The Mactavish will never recover 
from this blow—they’re done—finished, or at least, 
soon will be!” 

When I told him of the chief’s escape, he shook 
his head ruefully. "Him we must get and will—but 
he must be saved for you!” 

Reaching the tower, we found Ranald in a thun¬ 
dering temper. During the flight, many of the 
women and children had taken refuge within its 
walls. The troopers had hammered on the stout 
door and demanded admittance, but the only answer 
had been a glimpse of fugitive faces peering from 
the crenelations in the parapet. At last, he ordered 
the troopers to cut down a tree and batter it in and 
just as we came up proceeded to the attack. At 
the second or third stroke of the ram, they dropped 
it and scattered with cries of rage, for a cauldron of 

239 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«« <<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<<■<< <<<<<<<< < <<<<<<<<<< < 

boiling water was emptied on them from the battle¬ 
ment. And, were it not for the height which 
dispersed the contents over a considerable area, 
many of them would have been severely scalded. 
The clansmen thought it a huge joke and roared at 
the discomfiture of the attackers until fearing a 
brawl, I bade them desist. At Ranald’s suggestion I 
called to the inmates, saying that we came not to 
war upon women and children and that if they 
would open the door and depart, we would promise 
them safe conduct. But that if they persisted in 
resisting, we would surely batter down the door and 
I would wash my hands of them and not be re¬ 
sponsible for the action of my men. 

I could see no one while addressing them, but had 
no doubt but that they were listening attentively. 
After a considerable wait, a woman thrust her head 
over the parapet and said they would come out, if 
I would swear on my knife that they would not 
be harmed. This I did, and a few moments later, 
the ponderous door creaked and slowly opened. 
Timorously they came forth, a pitiful group, some 
looking straight ahead or at the ground as if afraid 
we had the evil eye. Others, heads up, gazed bale- 
fully at us and one fury stood and cursed us till 
some of the men turned away, nor did she stop 
until Dougal strode at her and bade her "Shut her 
clap, or oath or no oath he would slit her wesand,” 

240 



THE VENGEANCE 

«««-« < 

whereupon she followed the others, muttering to 
herself. 

Suddenly, Dougal who watched closely, reached 
forward a brawny red arm, and plucked a little man 
from their midst. 

"Where go you?” he growled. "Safe conduct 
the laird has promised for the women and children, 
but he said naught of men. You bide here.” 

The fugitive was old and bent, crippled with 
rheumatism, and lay fearfully where the giant had 
flung him. Bidding him get up and follow, we 
entered the tower and stood at gaze. The place was 
much like Sannoch in architecture, though lacking 
the great portcullis. Still, one or two stalwart men 
could have held the narrow door or the stairs from 
a host. 

We drew a settle before the fire that blazed upon 
the hearth, and sat down, calling the craven care¬ 
taker to us. To Ranald’s question he answered that 
he was Malcolm Mactavish, a distant kinsman of 
the laird. 

"What is your station?” 

"I am the factor.” 

"So! Can you write?” 

"Aye.” 

"Where are Mactavish’s private quarters?” 

He glanced towards the winding stairs and 
nodded. 


241 



THE HIGHLANDER 


"You know where he keeps his personal papers, 
his money, his valuables?” 

The factor shook his head. 

"Speak up, or by God we’ll make you.” 

"There is an iron bound chest in his room.” 

"And you have the key?” 

Again he shook his head. 

"Now,” said Ranald, striding towards him, 
"where is his real hiding place?” 

The man was silent. 

"Speak up, you—if you don’t we’ll flay you 
alive!” And he caught the wretch by the neck and 
shook him till his teeth rattled, then flung him to the 
flags. The man lay silently at his feet, a hand raised 
to protect his head, and swore that he knew not of 
such a place. 

"Aye! But there is such, isn’t there? You may 
as well admit it—you will never see your bastardly 
kinsman again, so if you’re wise, you will save your 
hide.” But the factor continued to insist that he 
knew not, which I was inclined to believe. 

"Bah!” scoffed Ranald. "Take him away, some¬ 
one, and keep an eye on him till we are through. 
Have him show you the wine cellar and the larder 
that we may eat.” 

Dougal came with a tally of the dead on the field 
and those accounted for in the village, amounting to 
twenty-nine, and added significantly, "There were 
no wounded or prisoners.” 

242 



THE VENGEANCE 
«<«■««« <<<<<<<<< 

We then cared in a rough way for our own who 
required attention and after hastily breaking our 
fast, the able men were divided into two parties, 
leaving the rest in charge of the Hold, satisfied that 
they could cope with any abortive attempt to re¬ 
capture it by the survivors. Thanking them for 
their prowess and bidding them not to forget those 
left behind, I abandoned them to pillage. All the 
spoils were theirs, I told them—I wanted nothing 
other than my cattle and the chief’s share of those 
belonging to Mactavish. In return, they were to 
spare nothing; not a roof was to be left unburned, 
not a tree ungirdled, the very cats and dogs were to 
be killed and tossed into the wells. Thus would 
Mactavish learn what laying waste really meant, 
and it would be a warning to any other that had 
lent him a hand. 

Eagerly they hurried off and I returned to the 
Hold having no heart for their work, necessary to 
our existence as I knew it to be. 

The hall held little of interest, there were but 
few rude pieces of furniture, and the walls were 
bare save for old arms and trophies of the chase. 

Mounting the circular stairs, I entered the room 
above. It was a large chamber similar to most of 
its kind, lighted by a single narrow window, trans¬ 
fixed by a stout iron bar. Set diagonally in a far 
corner was a small fireplace containing some 
blackened logs. There was a huge bed in the centre, 

243 




THE VENGEANCE 
««««< «■<-<■<-<■<■<■< <«-<-<-«« « « 

a couple of stools, a long table on which stood a 
tallow dip and an oaken chest. On one of the walls 
hung a moth-eaten tapestry; there were a few 
articles of apparel on another. Beyond the bed was 
a small door behind which stairs led to the floor 
above. The chamber had a musty, unused smell that 
suggested Mactavish was seldom at home. Cobwebs 
hung on everything and the floor was thick with 
dust. 

Calling for assistance from below, I broke into 
the chest, but found nothing of interest, articles 
of wearing apparel, obviously belonging to Mac¬ 
tavish and some arms which the men promptly 
appropriated. Then Colin who had stayed by me 
discovered a heavy iron chest beneath the bed and 
drew it forth. With an iron bar we smashed the 
ponderous locks and pried up the lid. In it we 
found a deerskin bag containing some hundred 
pounds, Scot, a couple of valuable silver tankards 
and an ancient knife of rare design. There were 
also a mass of papers and parchments and lastly a 
Gaelic Bible containing many family records. I 
gave the men the money and other things of value 
and sat me down at the table to peruse the papers, 
using the old knife to cut the binding tapes. 

Some of them were receipts for loans and the 
sale of cattle, old deeds and a map of the lands. Then 
came a sheaf of correspondence with the Cov- 

244 



THE VENGEANCE 

enanters, all antedating his joining Montrose, but 
apparently nothing of an incriminating nature. 
Nevertheless, I stuffed them into my shirt to con 
again. The chest had disclosed nothing of account, 
no reference to my family or to dealings with my 
murdered brother. Obviously there was some secret 
place of concealment, but how were we to find it? 

Using the iron bar I sounded every flagstone in 
the floor, paying particular attention to the fireplace 
and hearth, but no welcome echo answered my 
blows. I tried to move the bed also, but it was too 
heavy. So I went about the walls tapping every 
foot of them as high as I could reach—the result 
was the same. 

When I had satisfied myself the room contained 
nothing, I mounted the stairs to the floor above. 
This proved to be a storeroom containing a barrel 
of gunpowder, old saddlery, bags of grain and odds 
and ends of discarded furniture. Rats squeaked 
and scuttled about in the litter and reflecting their 
squeaking would soon be over, I climbed the last 
stair to the battlement. The day was about done 
and through the smoke which hung over the glen I 
saw the wrecking parties returning, backs bent to 
the loads they carried, driving a great herd of cattle 
and sheep before them. Deep in my heart I could 
not be proud of my deed, but I had the satisfaction 
of knowing that they would sing of it beside the 

245 




THE HIGHLANDER 


« « « ■ «< < < < < < ■ « ■««<-<-««« « ■ «« « ««« 

hearths of Sannoch long after I was gone. The fight 
itself I would always remember, with head high, 
but that it should be attended by this ruin and 
misery for the innocent was a different side, less 
easy to condone. And yet, how different? How 
innocent were they? The very babes were suckled 
at the breasts of women who would with joy drive 
a knife into my vitals—the children would assist in 
the slaughter of my wounded men below. Had done 
so in the past and would again. It was the law of 
the land, and would go on until, like the wearing of 
water upon a stone, the ignorance which engendered 
pride, hatred, and intolerance disappeared from the 
land. Scotland had far to go before she was prepared 
for better days. 


246 



•^<<< <<■ < «<< < ■ < ■< 

CHAPTER XV 
^<<<< < < << << -<-< * 


The Secret of the Tower 

Great was the revelry that night within the hoary 
walls of Mactavish’s tower. Midst the murky glare 
of many torches, the horns went round and round 
again, while the warriors sang their songs and Angus 
skirled his pipes. A guard had been placed on the 
battlement, and the strong door barred, but the 
rest I gave their well-earned way. Ranald lay back 
in a chair, his boots stretched to the hearth, deep 
in his cups, but still imbibing from one of Mac¬ 
tavish’s silver tankards which he had appropriated 
as his own. 

One by one the revellers slipped under the trestle 
table or staggered off to find a couch. The place 
stank of stale breath and vomit, and I took myself 
again to the roof where I talked to the watchers 
and looked at the stars still twinkling cleanly as 
they had for eons of time, while my thoughts drifted 
to Ellen, and what she would think of my victory. 
For well I knew that the news of it would travel 
through the western Highlands like a moor fire. 

247 




THE HIGHLANDER 

««««■« < < ««« < 

Eventually I sought the room below. Ranald had 
already found the bed and lay asprawl, snoring 
loudly. The place was hot and fetid and slumber 
would not come. I tossed about, my mind brightly 
alert. The wild ecstasy of the battle and the terrible 
reaction of the aftermath flitted across my tired 
brain. 

Suddenly I heard a faint cry, and a sound as of 
scuffling about below. I started up, about to rise, 
and then thought that it was probably but one of 
the drunkards wandering about or having a night¬ 
mare and laid me down again. 

But an insistent premonition of momentous hap¬ 
penings obsessed me and urged me to get up. I tried 
to laugh at my nerves, but unable to stand it longer, 
I flung off the plaid impatiently and arose. 

Going to the head of the stairs, I stood listening 
for a moment. Everything was quiet and as dark 
as pitch as I crept below in my stockinged feet. 
Except for a faint glow from the dying embers on 
the hearth, all about me was black. I heard nothing 
but the heavy breathing of slumbering clansmen. 

Then, faint but distinct, came a strangled cry, as 
of some one in mortal fear and agony, and my flesh 
crept. Instinctively I reached for the sgian dhu in 
my stocking. Silence reigned in the hall and then I 
heard it again, a moaning cry of utter misery and 
pain. This time my ears were attuned to catch it 

248 



SECRET OF THE TOWER 

< <<<<<<<-<-<^^< ««■< «■«■«<■« 

and I thought it came from beyond the hall. 
Groping my way through the sleepers and the litter, 
I made my way to the passage, and again listened. 
For a third time I heard that strangled cry; it 
seemed to swell up from below. Swiftly returning 
to the fire, I found a faggot still aglow, and blew it 
into flame. Then back through the passage I made 
my way down to a large room evidently the kitchen. 
Listening I heard a faint murmur and the clink of 
metal from the direction I had come and I saw that 
I had walked past a narrow door which stood ajar. 
Beyond it a steep flight of steps wound down into 
the bowels of the tower. A ruddy glare suffused 
the damp wall of the stair passage and knowing that 
whatever devil’s work was being done was below, I 
laid down the faggot and, dirk in hand, silently 
descended. 

The sight which met my eyes as I reached the 
bottom and turned a corner was so surprising that 
I stood stock still. The cellar was a huge, low vaulted 
room. In the centre of it stood Dougal looking 
down at a form lying bound at his feet, that writhed 
and groaned piteously. Rory Oig stood on the other 
side of a log to which their victim was bound, 
bending over a hot coal fire, the glow from which 
reflected fiendishly upon the faces of my henchmen 
and cast grotesque goblin-like shadows upon the 
wall. Dougal was in the act of lifting the bound 

249 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<-««^<««« <«-<- « ■<■«■<-<-<■<■<«« « 

man into a sitting position as I stepped forward. 

"In the name of all the fiends, what devil’s work 
is this?” I cried. 

Startled, the men spun around, hands to their 
dirks, but Dougal immediately resumed his com¬ 
posure. 

"You are just in time,” he said. "This swine has 
confessed.” 

Looking down, I saw that their captive was the 
crippled factor. Great beads of sweat stood upon 
his brow and he squirmed and moaned as he stared 
fearfully from one to the other. 

"What do you mean by such work? The man’s 
a cripple!” 

"Aye,” said Dougal easily, "and like all of them 
has the greater fortitude. We nearly had to burn 
the hide off his feet before he would talk—but he 
talked! Didn’t you—you misbegotten oaf! Don’t 
be taken in, Sannoch, by his piteous look and bent 
body. He would stick a dirk between your ribs 
soon enough if he had the chance. Aye! And had 
the knife concealed upon him when we caught him.” 

"How mean you, caught him? The man was 
locked up as ordered, was he not?” 

"Aye. He was locked in here, where we threw 
him, but there is some way out which we dinna’ 
find yet. I was restless—what with the wine and the 
heat and excitement I couldna’ sleep. As I lay on 

250 



SECRET OF THE TOWER 

the settle, in the hall, I saw a misshapen figure cross 
in front of the fire on the hearth—something in the 
shape of it told me that it was this devil, though I 
locked him in with my own hands. As I sprang up 
and grabbed him he drew his dirk on me, but I 
caught his wrist in time.” 

"So that was the scuffle I heard!” 

"Na doubt—I dragged him out to the kitchen, 
bound him fast and sought Rory and we carried 
him down here. He refused to talk despite a beating 
until I thought of the fire, and now he says that the 
passage is hidden beyond yon door and that he will 
show us the way. ’Tis lucky I saw him when I did, 
for I make no doubt that he was on his way above 
to murder you both.” 

\ 

A thought struck me, "You say he was bending 
over the hearth?” 

"Aye.” 

"Where is the knife which you took off him?” 

"Why, in the larder,” he answered with a note 
of surprise. 

"Get it, Rory—I would see it.” 

Swiftly he sped above as bidden and coming back 
handed me the weapon—it was the same strange 
knife which I had taken from the iron-bound chest 
in Mactavish’s chamber. I looked sharply at the 
factor, but his face was again blank. Obviously he 
had been in the chamber, but where could the secret 

251 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< < < «« « 

passage entrance be? The natural place for it was 
in the chief’s private quarters, but I had sounded 
every foot of it— Hold! There was the heavy bed— 
that was it—the entrance was under the bed, which 
I could not move. 

The factor had waited until all was quiet above, 
then stole up the secret way and probably entered 
the room while I was on the roof. He had to have 
been there to get the knife. Yet, he had some more 
important mission or at least, something which he 
was more desirous of doing first or he would have 
waited under the bed and killed us in our sleep. 

''Where did you get this?” I asked sternly, holding 
the knife before his eyes. "Speak!” But he con¬ 
tinued to stare at his feet. 

"Shall I make him talk?” asked Dougal. 

"No matter,” I answered impatiently. "I know 
where he got it—come show us the passage.” 

Dougal yanked him to his feet and he screamed 
as their blistered soles touched the floor and would 
have fallen if they had not supported him. But I 
had no compassion for him now. Tottering across 
the cellar beside his guard, he indicated a little door. 
We opened it and beheld a small dungeon beyond. 
Pointing to a stone in its wall, with a large surface, 
he told us to push on one side and it turned easily 
revealing a hole some three feet square. The torch 
which Rory carried was dying and we returned to 

252 



SECRET OF THE TOWER 
«««■«« < <-<-<<<<<<<■<<<<<<<< <■<■<««««■<■<■< 
the cellar, while he went up to secure a lanthorn. 
When he came back, we retraced our steps and he 
crawled through the hole dragging the miserable 
factor after him. Entering in turn we stood in a 
narrow, low ceilinged passage which ran by the 
opening in two directions. Water trickled down the 
slimy walls—and the air, in which the lanthorn 
flickered wanly, was dead. 

"Which way is up?” asked Dougal. 

The factor pointed to the left in which direction 
the floor of the passage rose. 

"And the other, is that an outlet to the tower?” 

"It was,” the man replied, "but it has fallen in and 
been blocked since long before my time.” 

"Go and see, Rory,” said Dougal, keeping a tight 
grasp upon his prisoner as the light receded from 
us, though indeed his arms were still bound. A 
moment later Rory joined us. 

"He spoke the truth for once,” he said, " ’tis in¬ 
deed blocked with fallen stone and earth.” 

Turning to the left, we traversed a steep slope— 
then we came to steps mounting and turning into 
the tower. At one point there was a small recess 
and, peering into it, Dougal said that he could see 
the glow of the coals on the hearth in the hall. 
Turning and mounting we came to a blank end 
where the factor told us to pull an iron ring in a 
stone overhead. It was pivoted like the one in the 

253 





THE HIGHLANDER 
«<<«<■<■«■«■«■««««■ «««««-< ««««< 

wall below, and, responding to a strong tug, turned 
over revealing a hole from which came a faint light. 

Crawling through first, I found, as I expected, 
that we were in Mactavish’s room—there was 
Ranald asprawl, snoring as I had left him. He 
stirred restlessly as the others entered, but did not 
awake. Putting on my brogues, which I had left 
when I crept below, I motioned the others to follow 
me and descended again into the hall. Dougal blew 
up the fire and threw on some heather. It blazed 
up lighting the room and I sat down to ponder, 
convinced that the fireplace was the point of in¬ 
terest. 

Again I questioned the factor sternly, speaking 
in a low tone so as not to disturb the sleepers. "What 
were you doing at the fireplace?” 

As before he stood silently. "I know that you 
crept into the secret passage and watched through 
the peep until all grew quiet. I know that you 
entered that chamber while the Captain slept, and 
crept down those stairs after stealing the knife. It 
was not blood that you were after, as these men 
thought, because you had had your chance. What 
you wanted is here, beneath this hearth or in the 
fireplace. What is it? Speak!” 

He stood in silence, rocking back and forth with 
pain. 

"Stick his feet in the fire!” I told Dougal. 

254 



SECRET OF THE TOWER 

< < < < <■<■<■< < <«-<-<■ 

"No! Christ! not that! I cannot stand it more— 
I will tell you. 5 ’ 

''That’s better. Where is it?” 

Speaking slowly as if it was pulled from him with 
pincers, the factor directed Dougal to reach up in 
the chimney. There was a ledge there and he would 
feel a loose slab of stone. Removing this, he would 
find an iron casket. 

Dougal kicked the fire aside and leaned into the 
chimney, reaching aloft. A shower of soot came 
down on his face, causing him to cough and spit, 
but he dropped the slab and again reaching upward, 
brought down a strongbox. 

"Have you the key?” 

"Nay, Mactavish has it,” answered the factor. 

"Bring it below and something with which to 
open it.” 

Descending again to the cellar, Rory set down 
the lanthorn and stirred the fire. The factor 
slumped to the floor with a groan and we three bent 
over the box as Dougal hammered at the hasp, 
smashing off the lock. In it were two heavy bags of 
money, but dropping them, Dougal snatched at 
something else which glittered in the bottom. 

"The Luck of Sannoch!” he cried. "There’s your 
proof, at last!” 

He held towards me an ancient Celtic brooch, 
of a rare Runic design, made of silver and sur- 

2 55 






THE HIGHLANDER 
<««««-<■« <<-<■<■< « «<« <<<<<<< < < << < <<< <<< 

mounted by four cairngorms of purest white. The 
talisman of our house, said to have been given to 
one of our chiefs by Bruce at Bannockburn, and 
worn by the head of the clan ever afterwards—it 
was worn by my brother, David, that fatal day 
when he lost his life at the head of Glen Lyon. 

I thrust it in the factor’s face. "'You know of 
this! Speak!” The factor crouched away from me, 
his face blue with fear. "Go on! Speak!” He 
swallowed hard before he whispered, 

"I had no part in it—I swear—I had no part in 

• >> 

it. 

"Aye, but you witnessed it—you were there— 
you saw it done or he would not have let you into 
the secret—and you sought to hide the evidence, 
fearful that we would find it. It is true, is it not?” 

"Aye,” he whispered. "I saw it done—but I had 
no part in it, I tell you!” 

"Dispatch him,” I said, turning towards the stairs. 

With a scream, he threw himself, bound as his 
hands were, grovelling at my feet. "Not that— 
Christ! Not that!” 

As I mounted the stairs, the brooch clutched in 
my hand, I heard, as in a dream, a stifled cry—then 
silence from below. 


256 




« « « -«<««« 

CHAPTER XVI 
«« « < ■«<<<■<■ < ■< 


Kilsyth 

From the top of the moor where the bitter fight 
was fought, we stopped and looked back. A pall of 
smoke arose from the seat of Mactavish’s iniquity, 
and as we watched that symbol of his shattered 
hopes, there came a dull rumble as of distant 
thunder, and a great slice of the upper wall broke 
off. The magazine had exploded and escaping flames 
shot into the sky. It was done. Sannoch was 
avenged and peace to our glen assured. 

"A fitting ending to the first chapter,” observed 
Ranald. "You have now but to seek the villain and 
start him on the road to hell.” 

"I would leave it here. Let the dastard find his 
own hell on earth—they always do, I ken.” 

Ranald leaned from his saddle and gripped my 
arm. 

"Would you forget David? Think you that you 
can lay his ghost until his blood, foully taken, is 
appeased? What of our Highland tradition and 
the regard of your clansmen?” 

257 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<- < ■ <-<<<<<< <« « -<-<-< <<<<< <«« 

"I’ve had my fill of blood—my way is not your 
way, my cousin. I am not a soldier at heart—let 
the man write his own doom as I am certain he 
will.” 

We rode in silence for a bit. 

"You are disappointed with me?” I queried. 

"Nay, laddie, ’tis the truth—your code is not 
mine. I would have made a soldier of you, patterned 
on the ideal I set before me at your age, before the 
ideal was chipped and tarnished. With your patri¬ 
mony and background, you could have gone far, 
but you are not cut for it. Yes, methinks it is as 
well that you are to have me for a neighbour. That 
Mactavish with all his villainy is a dominant man. 
He will not quit the table without another cast. 
Beaten as he has been at his own game, he will stake 
his all on one last chance with marked cards, and 
you must meet it, Sannoch, willy-nilly.” 

Great was the rejoicing when we returned to the 
glen, laden with booty and driving the cattle before 
us. The watchers on the wall anxiously scanning the 
country for warning of our return, spied us from 
afar and men and women and children ran out to 
meet and relieve the warriors of their burdens. 

The place was like a madhouse for the next few 
days, another carousal began to end only when, with 
soured stomachs, the clansmen picked up their 
booty and returned to their gutted shielings. 

258 



KILSYTH 

«< <<<<<<■<■ <<<<<<■<■<<<< <■ <-<- <<<<<<<■<<■<:<<< 

A strange lethargy seized me. Disconsolately I 
wandered about the old house, devoid of energy and 
yet too restless to be still. I wanted nothing so much 
as peace and quiet, to curl up with an ancient tome 
of Scottish lays or to take the hound and wander 
off to lie in the heather above the glen and idly listen 
to the drone of the bees and the wail of the plover. 
Yet when I did, I thought again of the bees on the 
corpses at Auldearn—the cry of the plover became 
that of the stricken and, sick at heart, I would re¬ 
turn to the tower. It was my first chance for peace 
in a year, and yet I could not win her, woo her as 
I would. 

I tried to console myself with the thought that 
my position was eminently improved. The glen was 
in a stronger position than ever before despite our 
losses. The dreaded Campbell strength was broken 
and also that of our more immediate enemy. I had 
unearthed my brother’s murderer, and won dis¬ 
tinction in the field. More, I had found my own 
true love, and a staunch friend. But I could not 
be happy with the evil menace of my enemy still 
hovering to swoop. 

Ranald was impatient to regain the army, but 
I used the impending death of two of our wounded, 
whose rites I would be expected to attend, as an 
excuse to tarry. A week went by in which my god¬ 
less cousin killed time by fishing the Lyon, and by 

2 59 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«■<«■«■<■< «« ■<■«■«« «< <« « ■ «« «« « 

offering consolation to the young and very pretty 
widow of John Maclean, much to the concern of 
her neighbours. Scandalized by such goings on with 
the man barely in his shroud, I remonstrated with 
him, but he only laughed in my face and went 
brazenly off to give her one of his Mactavish cups, 
and to spend the night in her house. 

Then in the night came a galloper from the 
Marquis bidding us make haste to rejoin him, bear¬ 
ing the news of the disastrous defeat of Baillie at 
Alford, marred by the irreparable loss to our cause 
of the gallant Lord Gordon. A march into the Low¬ 
lands was at last possible, for Montrose had swept 
all of his opponents from the field. A day was spent 
in preparation for the coming campaign and to send 
forth once more for the clansmen who were to ac¬ 
company us. Meanwhile, we heard in detail of the 
battle fought again with brilliant strategy. And of 
how the gallant Gordon died in the moment of 
victory, shot in the back when he was in the very 
act of seizing the fleeing Baillie by the belt. 

Well we knew what his passing at twenty-eight 
would mean to his almost equally young com¬ 
mander. The bright and shining light of Scottish 
valour and nobility, he loved the Marquis with all 
the adoration of a younger brother—there was no 
one on his staff save old Lord Airlie who stood so 
high in his favour. With Gordon gone it was all the 

260 



KILSYTH 

<<< < <<< <<< < << < <<<<<<< <« <<<-<-<-<<<<<^- < <-< < <-<< 

more imperative for Ranald to return and assume 
charge of his promised command, so we quit San- 
noch intending to intercept the army at Dunkeld 
which we learned it was approaching. 

On the way we met the Atholl men coming 
back in force together with the Clanranalds and 
Glengarrys and full seven hundred Macleans from 
Mull under their warrior chieftain Murdock of 
Lochbuie. There were Lochaber Camerons, Appin 
Stewarts, Braemar Farquharsons, MacNabs and 
MacGregors, not to speak of the Ulster contingent, 
so that with the Horse of Ogilvy and Aboyne, 
Montrose would have the greatest force ever gath¬ 
ered together under his command, and not an army 
left to oppose his march into England to relieve 
King Charles where everything was at sixes and 
sevens. 

The plague had broken out in Edinburgh and 
the Covenant Government fled, terror stricken, to 
Stirling. It followed them there and they ran on 
to Perth where they shut the gates against Montrose 
and lay behind the walls quaking in their boots 
while he made a demonstration without, while 
awaiting the coming of the Highlanders. After 
scaring the wits out of them, he moved on to 
Dunkeld, and with the forces joined, had for the 
first time an army the equal of any in Britain. 

But the Covenant was not done. Baillie was given 

261 



THE HIGHLANDER 
<**<<*<<<< «■«< «■«■« < < <-<-<■«« < « <-<■<■< «<« 

a vote of thanks for his defeats and a fresh army 
was raised, consisting mostly of raw levies from 
Fife and Angus, it is true, but strengthened by 
Baillie’s cavalry which was still intact and several 
veteran Lowland regiments. These combined gave 
him a force of some six thousand men. Meanwhile 
Lanark had recruited the Hamiltons and was 
marching from Clydeside to join him; hearing 
which, the Marquis decided to cut between the 
twain and prevent a junction. He marched away 
for Glasgow by the fords of Stirling, through the 
field of Bannockburn and on the 14th of August, 
took up position on the Kelvin near the village of 
Kilsyth. 

Baillie was hampered by his precious committee, 
and lost much valuable time due to the insistence 
of Argyll, Tullibardine and others that they should 
stop to burn several Royalist castles on their way. 
In vain he protested, but they had their own selfish 
enmities to satisfy. When he arrived at Hollon- 
bush, half a mile from where Montrose awaited him, 
he would have tarried until Lanark, who was but 
a few miles away, came up, but his committee, with 
a valor born of ignorance, insisted upon immediate 
attack. Had they not six thousand men? And they 
would not concede that one Highlander was worth 
two of them. 

It was fearfully hot. The sun beat down upon 

262 



KILSYTH 

^< <<< << -<<<<<< < ■<<<<<<<- 

the Highland army with unremitting violence and 
Montrose bade his foot cast their kilts and fight in 
their saffron shirts which they tied between their 
legs. 

Our force was camped in a hollow surrounded 
by steep slopes, any one of which we could have 
occupied. The position seemed untenable even to 
my unpractised eye. 

"In God’s name,” I said to Ranald, "what is the 
Marquis thinking of to accept such a position?” 

"Well, if you ask me, he is afraid that Baillie will 
refuse to fight unless he has the best position and 
that will give Lanark a chance to come up and add 
another fifteen hundred men to his force.” 

"But we’re in a box.” 

"Aye, but no doubt my lord believes that our 
Highland wildcats can scramble out of it faster 
than Baillie’s heavy troops could down us. At any 
rate, you’ll soon know for there’s their van appear¬ 
ing beyond the crest.” 

Baillie approached on a low ridge about which 
they manoeuvred to come onto still higher ground 
upon our left. The move was suicidal to a large, 
heavily moving force when opposed by troops 
which could almost fly. It exposed their long line 
in flank to a frontal attack. But the committee 
did not think that the clansmen could charge up 
the slope and arrive in a condition to fight, nor did 

263 




THE HIGHLANDER 

« <<<<<< <■ <■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■<■< «< ««<-<■< ««««< 

they dream that they would attempt it. Seeing his 
opportunity Alasdair launched his valiant Mac¬ 
leans against the slope, followed by the Macdonalds 
of Clanranald, and they cut through Baillies centre 
as a dirk splits a tart. In vain the regiments of 
Argyll, Cassilis and Glencairn strove to stem the 
tide, for they were overwhelmed as if by a tidal 
wave. 

Montrose grasped the opportunity and dispatched 
the Gordon foot to stop Baillie’s van, but they 
found the task too much for them. Aboyne led his 
horse to their assistance, but he also was surrounded. 
Then Montrose called upon the grand old warrior 
of the Highland host, Lord Airlie, to advance his 
Ogilvys. Blithely as a youngster, the gallant vet¬ 
eran, his white locks gleaming in the sun, galloped 
forward, screaming his battle cry and for all his 
sixty years, reached the melee with the forefront 
of his men. 

Then, and not till then, did Montrose turn to 
Ranald, pointing forward—quietly, as if inviting 
him to canter. 

"There, Colonel, is your meat!” 

With a clatter, the balance of the cavalry trotted 
up the long slope, swinging to the right and with 
heads low, turned in echelon on Baillie’s last hope— 
Balcarres’ Horse, which till then had been out of 
the fight. 


264 



KILSYTH 

««< <<< < <<<<<<<<<<<■<<<<< 

Meanwhile Montrose advanced the main force 
with a blare of trumpets and pipes and the bone 
was gnawed clean. The decisive battle of a brilliant 
campaign had been fought; Scotland had been won; 
the Border from Berwick to Carlisle was open to an 
advance into England and the Marquis of Montrose, 
Lord Lieutenant of Scotland, had at thirty-three 
established himself as one of the first captains of 
his age. 

I had no personal contact with Kilsyth, being 
attached to the Marquis’ person, but here for the 
first time, I had the opportunity to observe the 
master in action. Calm and debonair, his well-knit 
youthful body sat his horse with the natural ease of 
the accomplished horseman, from which even his 
black half armour could not detract. His wide 
grey eyes took in every contour of the terrain at a 
glance. He kept his own counsel, asking no ques¬ 
tions nor advice. When the time came for action, 
his orders were terse and to the point; coolly and 
with precise diction he ordered forth each unit as 
the time came. He could not have suspected Baillie’s 
intended menace to his left flank until the hot¬ 
head, Haldane, gave the show away by attacking 
Treshnish, yet he immediately slipped the jessies 
from Gordon and Airlie and followed with the gen¬ 
eral advance. I had seen him wrest victory from a 
forlorn hope when outnumbered three to one, by 

2 65 




THE HIGHLANDER 
< < <■««««« 

frontal attack at Inverlochy, conduct a masterly 
retreat and turn it to account as at Dundee, and 
win by superb strategy and perfect handling of his 
troops at Auldearn. But at Kilsyth, I saw him 
deliberately give the choice of ground to a stronger 
opponent, whom he knew would otherwise avoid 
battle, until further drafts arrived, and then kick 
him from his path and annihilate him. 

Two days later when we reached the gates of 
Glasgow, a deputation of the burghers met us to 
make terms for their city. The Marquis reassured 
them with courtly grace and we entered the capital 
of the west where we were destined to remain for 
a time, all too short as it transpired, to suit me. 
For shortly after we found lodgings, a Highlander 
came enquiring for me and would give his message 
to none other. 

I questioned the household closely and also young 
Colin who, since Inverlochy, had always stayed with 
me, but none knew him, nor could say from whence 
he came. I went off to see after the care of my men 
and to attend a council, to find, on my return, that 
the messenger had come back again, and said that 
he would wait for me at the Sign of the Bonnie 
Piper. Suspicious of the hand of Mactavish, I called 
for Colin to accompany me and, fully armed, re¬ 
paired to the rendezvous. 

The innkeeper indicated with an evil smirk 

266 


a 



KILSYTH 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< «-< 

room above, but since the place was full of our own 
officers, I felt no apprehension and ascended the 
stairs and knocked upon the door. Almost im¬ 
mediately it flew open and Ellen was in my as¬ 
tonished arms. 

"Ellen, sweet,” I cried in amazement, "what¬ 
ever brings you here?” 

"The plague, blessing on it,” she laughed, " ’tis 
an ill wind that blows nobody good. As soon as it 
was known that the Estates would move to Perth, 
Ardchatten packed me off here, as he felt that it 
was too near the zone of war. And now, your 
blessed Marquis brings you straight to my arms!” 

"You know of Kilsyth—I need not ask you 
that?” 

"Aye, Sannoch, and of the bonny fight on the 
Mactavish braes also. The villain came apacking 
to my father, with a tale of how with an overpow¬ 
ering force you descended upon his sleeping hench¬ 
men and burned them out of their homes. The poor 
defenceless innocents!” 

"Overpowering force!” I railed. "Did he tell 
you that he sought to invest Sannoch before we 
returned—and would have done if it had not been 
for Dougal? Did he tell you of the burned village 
and the woman and her wee bairns slaughtered be¬ 
fore the walls? The dastards outnumbered the 
Sannoch men two to one.” 

267 




THE HIGHLANDER 

« <■ < <<<<<< 

I told her the whole story from the beginning, 
how Dougal and Rory had forced the secret of 
David’s murder from the lips of the factor and of 
the recovery of the talisman which I wore. 

"The beast is worse than I dreamed!” she cried, 
cheeks aflame and eyes flashing. "He came to my 
father pressing his suit for my hand. But don’t 
fear,” she added scornfully, "Ardchatten sent him 
packing with the comment that a man who could 
not hold his own was no fit husband for his 
daughter. That did not suffice him—the beast 
followed me here and for all I know is still in the 
town, lurking in wait for you. ’Tis why I dared not 
bid you come to my lodging, but bade you meet me 
secretly here.” 

"Do you know, sweet, where he lodges?” 

"Nay, nor did I know. He has not been seen 
since word reached the city of Montrose’s coming. 
But to tell you the truth, I have stayed indoors— 
for I truly fear the brute. He will stoop to anything 
for his wicked vengeance. How he found me I do 
not know—but he came, nevertheless, with his vile 
proposal. I lost my head when he laid his hands 
upon me and threw your name in his face, vowing 
I would have you kill him. He laughed evilly, 
saying that it was the only clue he needed—that he 
knew that I had assisted your escape from Edin¬ 
burgh—though I think he only suspected it till 

268 



KILSYTH 

«««■ «< «««<<, <<< < <<<<<■<-<«<<<<<<<<<<■<-<■ 
then. And when he had you in his power, he said 
he would come back and bargain to better advan¬ 
tage.” 

"Curse him!” I raved, "Ranald is right as always. 
I must finish with Mactavish. I was forgetful of 
David—I had to force myself to carry on the raid, 
until I stood in my smouldering village. And when 
it was over, I had no ambition to pursue him 
further. I thought I had had enough of killing, but 
with this fresh affront, it cannot be till the adder is 
crushed. 

"You are safe while we are here, but once we 
leave Glasgow he may well get you into his power. 
For even Ardchatten’s daughter would not be saved 
from gaol if he told some of your uncompromising 
ministers of his suspicions.” 

"I fear not that!” she declared bravely. "Ard- 
chatten will not see his daughter in the Tolbooth. 
It is, rather, that in his wicked hatred of you, he is 
quite capable of trying to get you into his power 
through me. So when you leave Glasgow I shall go 
straight home to Argyll, to the house where you 
first met me.” 

Eventually, thinking of poor Colin standing be¬ 
low, I opened the casement and bade him seek out 
Ranald and bring him to us for supper and mean¬ 
while to send aloft the innkeeper that we might 
order a suitable repast. Time flew on, but we 

269 




THE HIGHLANDER 

•<-<■<<<<<<<<< 

recked not of that. Meanwhile I sat beside my 
Ellen until I heard Ranald’s tread without and in 
response to a lusty knock opened the door. One 
glance was sufficient to show that he was dressed 
for an occasion. His crisp brown hair was carefully 
done and his best Flemish lace hung over his 
knuckles as with his plumed French hat he swept 
the floor. Sword cocked and feet pointed, as if at 
the court of France, he bowed to Ellen before 
crossing the room to raise her hand to his lips. 

"Lord, cousin, why all this finery? ’Tis but a 
simple supper!” 

"Simple, sir,” he mocked. "Call your reunion 
with the loveliest maid of Argyllshire—and our 
saviour to boot—simple? Alas, Mistress Ellen, for 
the rude manners of my all too simple Highland 
cousin. But his heart is good. You are glad to see 
him, I trust,” and added, sotto voce , "you know that 
the booby was afraid after our last abrupt parting 
that you would blame him because I bearded your 
father.” 

Carried away with the deviltry in his eye and his 
show of concern for our hasty departure from 
Crief, she tossed back her head and laughed. 

"Indeed, Captain,” she said, taking his hand in 
hers, "I find I have much to thank you for. San- 
noch tells me of your support on the braes of 
Mactavish. I fear he might not have come back to 
me but for your timely aid.” 

270 



KILSYTH 

-< < < <<-<- < -«< <<<■<-<<<<<<■<■< < <<<<<<<<<<<<■<■<•<■ <- <-<-<- 

"Tush, ’twas but a little brawl! And, by the way, 
I will have you know that I am a colonel—not that 
it makes any great difference,” he added hastily, 
noting her embarrassment, "but you see, if I am 
a Colonel of the Royal Horse, I should be able to 
handle the situation with a few Highland kernes 
—now shouldn’t I?” 

"As for that,” she cried, "Highland kernes have 
routed fine cavalry before and lived to sing of it, 
my Colonel!” 

"Ah, yes,” he parried quickly, "but not my 
cavalry, for you see I am a Highland cavalryman, 
strange as it may seem.” 

"There is no arguing with him,” I interrupted. 
"Do, Ellen, let him be—I am sorry that I asked 
him here whatever. He dresses himself like a field 
marshal to make me feel the meaner, usurps the 
conversation and the attention of my lady—” 

"But you will be glad that you asked me,” re¬ 
plied Ranald, "for I have a rare surprise for you and 
methinks it comes now,” he added and, stepping 
from the casement where he had secured a view 
of the street, he strode across to the door. 

"What is it?” we both asked. 

He signalled to us to be silent, and stood listen¬ 
ing to a step mounting the stairs. Thinking that it 
was some mummery of his or a present coming for 
Ellen, knowing Ranald had a knack for thinking 
of those little things which endeared him to a 

271 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<«■« <<-<<<<*<<<■<■ <■ <- <■ <■<■<■< <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

woman, I kept my seat beside her. As the door 
opened, I beheld a heavily cloaked figure in the 
corridor, and dim as the light was, instantly recog¬ 
nized the newcomer as he dropped the cloak from 
his face. I sprang to my feet. 

"My Lord Marquis!!” 

That was the reason for Ranald’s finery. Ellen 
had risen panic-stricken to her feet at my exclama¬ 
tion of surprise, and stood with her hand to her 
throat, as I stepped forward to relieve the Mar¬ 
quis of his cloak and hat. 

"You know me?” he said, striding over to Ellen 
and raising her trembling hand to his lips. "I hope 
that you and Sannoch will pardon this intrusion. 
I merely wished, Mistress, to pay my respects to 
the brave daughter of a brave Scot. I wish also 
to thank you for the succour of these gentlemen of 
mine when their fate was in your pretty hands.” 

Ellen curtsied to the floor, her fright dispersed 
in one flash by his charming personality. "My 
lord,” she said, "I owed these gentlemen over¬ 
much. I would do as much for the King’s Lieuten¬ 
ant, if possible without injury to my father’s 
cause.” 

"Very prettily said,” he laughed. "Exactly what 
I would have expected of Ardchatten’s daughter, 
or I’d not be here. The truth is that I had three 
strings to my bow in coming. First, to see for my- 

272 



KILSYTH 

self the lovely Ellen—I have the welfare of my 
men at heart—and you have my blessing for what 
it is worth. Secondly, I have a confidential mes¬ 
sage for your father. Thirdly, I am famished, tired, 
and in need of relaxation, where my accursed 
aides cannot find me. Colonel Mackenzie tells me 
this may be a betrothal feast, and if not let us make 
it so. 5 ’ 

"My lord,” I stammered, "this honor—” 

"Tush, for your honour, Sannoch. You’re prob¬ 
ably like the rest—honoured today and offended 
tomorrow. You see,” he added aside to Ellen, "I 
know the breed, do I not? Rather than honours, let 
us have a moment’s peace together, relaxation and 
forgetfulness—and food, man, food!!” 

Ranald had already sent for the landlord and 
when two servingmen appeared with him bearing 
sundry viands which I had neither the thought nor 
the gift to order, I saw Ranald’s hand in it again. 
He had prepared early for his surprise. 

We sat long before the board, sipping our wine 
anJ talking of lighter things, Montrose so skilfully 
controlling the conversation that it never touched 
a topic which would have been embarrassing to 
Ellen’s political affiliations. He talked of his days 
as a student in Glasgow, and of his beloved children, 
one of whom was dead in the Highlands, another a 
prisoner in the castle at Edinburgh. He talked of 

273 





THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<<<<<<<< <<«hhhh? 

the courts of Europe which he had visited and drew 
Ranald into a discussion of his Continental cam¬ 
paigns. Finally; as it grew late, he sang a song of 
his own composition to Ellen in a fine Highland 
voice and rising to go, held her hand in his. 

"Mistress Ellen,” he said, "I thank you for this 
evening. I have had little time of late for such. 
Will you take a message to your father for me?” 

"My lord, I will carry it to the end of Scotland, 
if need be.” 

"Nay, ’tis not as important as that. Just convey 
my thanks to him for his consideration of my poor 
Royalists who have fallen into the hands of his 
party and his unflinching courage in defending 
them from charges of treason. Tell him that he 
can always depend upon my doing as much for 
him. Tell him that I hope for the day when we 
can clasp hands as I do now with his daughter and 
tell him that I know no better way to make that 
possible and poor Scotland happier than by joining 
your hand with Sannoch’s.” 

He kissed her fingers, slapped me on the back, 
and refusing Ranald’s offer to see him to his quar¬ 
ters, with the remark that we were none too many 
to see such a jewel as Ellen Campbell home, he drew 
his cape closely about him and we heard his feet 
as he ran down the stairs and out whistling into 
the street. 


274 



«««««■<« « 

CHAPTER XVII 

«««■<«« «« 


Philiphaugb 

Never had Montrose’s prospects seemed so 
bright. He had swept every opponent from his 
paths and the way lay open to lead his army across 
the Border to the assistance of sorely pressed King 
Charles. No sooner had the news of Kilsyth spread 
than the Lowland nobles came flocking in to Glas¬ 
gow to pay homage to the King’s Lieutenant, with 
promises of money and men galore. 

Linlithgow, Carnegie, Erskine, and Seton, even 
Drummond who fought against us at Tippermuir, 
and such great Border lairds as Roxburgh, Dalziel, 
Hume, and the Marquis of Douglas declared them¬ 
selves with avowals of support. 

The promises of Digby’s fifteen hundred foot and 
the five hundred horse of Musgrave from over 
the Border, which never came, were forgotten. 
Montrose had no need of them now and fondly 
expected to lead full twenty thousand men into 
England when he had set the government of Scot¬ 
land in order. 


275 




THE HIGHLANDER 
« <■«■<■ < ■<««■«■«■<«■« «-<-«■««««<-<-<■<■ « « 

His first act was to dispatch the Master of Napier 
to Edinburgh to deliver the Royalist prisoners who 
lay rotting in the pestilential Tolbooth, and to 
exact a fine with the city’s submission. 

At the same time it was found necessary to evacu¬ 
ate Glasgow. That fair, fat city was too tempting to 
some of our wild Highland kernes, who though its 
rich booties in the Saltmarket and other prosper¬ 
ous portions of the town were justly theirs to pil¬ 
lage, and despite Montrose’s assurance that the city 
would not be violated, there was some looting until 
he caught the ringleaders and promptly hanged a 
half dozen of them. This led to much discontent 
and grumbling and to avoid recurrences of the 
trouble, the army was moved to Bothwell. 

On the very day that Napier returned with the 
released prisoners, the King’s Secretary of Scotland 
arrived bearing a patent for Montrose, proclaiming 
him Lieutenant-Governor and Captain-General of 
all Scotland. On the third of September, a great 
review was held of all his troops, in celebration of 
his promotion, after which Sir Archibald Primrose 
presented the Viceroy with his Royal commission 
midst the tumultuous cheers of the army. 

Montrose’s first act under his Viceroyship was 
to confer the order of knighthood upon the brave 
Alasdair, who had so justly earned it. He then 
issued proclamations to the principal towns sum- 

276 



PHILIPHAUGH 

««« «< << <<< < - < - < -* h k< <<<<<< <<<<<<< <<<<<<■<■<■ 
moning a Parliament to be held in Glasgow on the 
twentieth of October, for settling religious dif¬ 
ferences and bringing peace to the land. 

Returning to our quarters burning with enthu¬ 
siasm, I found Ranald there before me removing 
some of his finery. 

"Well,” he railed, "you seem elated. Had you a 
letter from your Mistress Ellen?” 

"Is it not glorious!” I answered, paying no heed 
to his quip. "Scotland is in the hollow of Mon¬ 
trose’s hand. Soon we will be over the Border and 
bring this bloody struggle to a close.” 

"Softly, cousin!” he replied. "It’s not all so easy 
as that. Scotland does, for the moment, lie, as you 
say, in the hollow of his hand, but how long will it? 
And how much of it is he strong enough to hold, 
when it begins to squirm? We are not through 
with the Covenant yet.” 

"You have read his manifesto?” I asked in won¬ 
derment. "Think you not that will cement the 
feeling of the people? Surely they have had enough 
of war and the King long since bowed to the Kirk.” 

"Aye,” he replied, as released from his back and 
breast plate he flexed his muscles and took a turn 
about the room. "I know all that, but mind you 
this: we are a long way from England yet. There 
is much grumbling and complaint among the wild 
western men that they were not given Glasgow as 

277 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<<*<<<<<■< < < <■««■«■ < « <-<-<-<■« «« « <«««« 

they expected. It was the lure of the rich cities 
—Edinburgh and Glasgow with, possibly, Carlisle 
and the Border towns, which enticed them out of 
their misty hills. ’Tis their creed that the spoils 
should follow the victoiy and though they have 
now more than they could stagger back to their 
crofts under the weight of, they feel—and justly— 
that this fattest of all the Lowland cities was held 
like a plum before their mouths only to be snatched 
away. 

"The Marquis was between the devil and the 
deep blue sea. Sack Glasgow and all hope of sup¬ 
port from the still suspicious Lowland lairds was 
gone forever, but to refuse it was to affront the 
backbone of his army; Do not forget, cousin, that 
Scotland is still two countries. The Lowlands look 
with fear and suspicion at any Highland offer of 
support. They cannot forget that they, one and 
all, have lost relatives in the Highland wars. The 
fact that they fought side by side at Falkirk, Flod- 
den, and Bannockburn does not alter the fact that 
we talk a different language, practise the old reli¬ 
gion, that our people are half-wild barbarians. It 
will take more than a proclamation to change that. 
Who, but a few like ourselves, are capable of under¬ 
standing it? Among the clans they can read naught 
but Gaelic and little enough of that. And think you 
that the poor Lowlander in town or country will 

278 




PHILIPHAUGH 

«««< ■««« «« «< « «««■<■«««<■<-<■<-«■<■ 

ever get a true version of it? Their voice and ears 
is their ministry—they will only hear that about 
the proclamation which their clergy intend to have 
them hear. Cannot you imagine how fairly those 
worthies will deal with their arch-enemy, Mon¬ 
trose?” 

"One thing will appeal to all alike—his promise 
to reduce taxation; but think you they will have 
much faith in that when they see him increasing his 
army, knowing it must be clothed and fed at their 
expense?” 

I shook my head dolefully, my erstwhile enthu¬ 
siasm entirely quelled. "Alas, then, what profit all 
these victories? Are they to get us nowhere? Why 
carry on with it, if all you say is true?” 

"I am a soldier, not a politician, Sannoch. ’Tis 
not a soldier’s business to worry over the political 
consequence of what he accomplishes with his 
sword. I am given a cavalry command and I will 
fight it to the best of my ability here or in England. 
But I* honestly do not expect Montrose to succour 
Charles; if he and his cavaliers cannot extricate 
themselves they are doomed. We have helped him 
much by detaining some of the finest British regi¬ 
ments in the north and then annihilating them. 
But our burden is a big one, we cannot carry theirs 
also. All I hoped for Montrose to accomplish he 
has done. 


279 



THE HIGHLANDER 

< < < < <« <««<««« « «■<■<■«««-<■<■««« «< 

"The Highlands have never dominated the Low¬ 
lands for long. Once we lose the upper hand, the 
whole task is to be done over again. Cross the 
Border with the Highland force and the Covenant 
will break out at our backs. But I don’t think we 
will get our kernes into England. Already they are 
impatient to be home with their pelf!” 

Alas! Ranald’s prophecy was all too true. The 
army which had fought so gallantly under the 
Marquis on many fields began to trickle slowly 
away, as the snow melts under a spring sun. They 
wanted to go back to their homes, their whole sys¬ 
tem of living demanded it. They did not under¬ 
stand organized war such as Montrose wished to 
pursue. Their women and children would soon 
starve if they did not return to replenish the 
larders. War was their most important business, 
but they were so miserably poor they had to dis¬ 
pose of their spoils. Then also, there were other fish 
to fry. The Macleans had to look to the protection 
of Mull or the Campbells would descend upon it to 
avenge Kilsyth. Clan Donald had still its ancient 
grudges which even Inverlochy had not entirely 
paid. 

The first to desert was Alasdair, taking with him 
most of his Irish on an expedition of his own, to 
further chastise the Campbells. It was the last 
we ever saw of that mighty warrior. He went 

280 



PHILIPHAUGH 

away into the mist, to fight his private battles as the 
Highlander has so many times before. It was the 
last the world was to hear of him until he was ig- 
nominiously slain in a drunken Irish brawl, some 
four years later—the paladin who had shed lustre 
on the scrolls of the Fianna went down with the 
dirk of a filthy kerne in his back. 

It was a bitter blow to Montrose, for not only 
was the loss of his Irish and practically all of the 
men of the Isles a serious one, but Alasdair, though 
a poor general on his own, was as the Marquis’ right 
hand, worth a regiment himself. Misfortunes come 
not singly and more were to follow; we broke camp 
at Bothwell, and started an advance on Tweed, 
intending to go by way of the Lammermoors to 
recruit the country of Roxburgh and Hume. 
Aboyne was insulted because Ranald had been given 
command of the Cavalry, and fomented by his 
father, Huntly. The restoration of Lord Ogilvy to 
his command upon his release from prison appeared 
as a further slight to the irascible Gordons and in 
spite of all appeals, he marched off for home with 
all his men. Of the family, Nathaniel Gordon re¬ 
mained ever faithful to his General and his King. 

Fearing the plague, we avoided Edinburgh, 
traversing the Lothians by way of Cranstown to 
Dalkeith. It was there that appalling news came 
of David Leslie. Pursuing the King in England, on 

281 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<■<■<■< < < < <<<■<-<-<■<■< <<«« 

hearing of Kilsyth, he turned hurriedly north with 
four thousand picked troops and having collected 
further reinforcement from the garrisons at New¬ 
castle and Berwick, had passed unchallenged across 
the Tweed on the sixth of September. He was 
hurrying on with all possible haste to engage the 
Marquis before he could reach Roxburgh, Hume 
and the vast lands of the Douglas’ and thus augment 
his force. 

Ranald sought me out in the streets of Dalkeith 
with a grim expression upon his countenance. 
"Come,” he said, "they have just called a staff 
council, and I would have you there. The time has 
come to talk and I, for one, do not intend to mince 
my words with the Marquis. We must get out 
of this damned Lowland country before it is 
too late.” 

It was raining heavily as we stumbled up the dark 
street to headquarters in an ominous silence. The 
guard stepped aside to give us entrance and we 
found ourselves in the small parlour of the town’s 
only inn. Montrose sat at the centre of the table, 
with Ogilvy and Erskine on either side of him. 
The rest of his staff were standing about the four 
walls of the room, the water trickling from their 
kilts and corselets. I looked at the Marquis. His 
face was pinched and drawn. The effects of the 
long campaign and the constant difficulties of his 

282 



PHILIPHAUGH 


■< < < <<<< <<<<<< < < <<<< <<<<<< < <<< <<<<<<-<-<hhhhk 
position were beginning to tell on him. He had 
the look of one who had been trained too fine. 
Another one or two belatedly followed us in, and 
the Marquis proceeded to address us. 

"My lords and gentlemen: Doubtless you have all 
heard the news which Lord Erskine brings us from 
the south. David Leslie, hearing of Kilsyth, was 
forced by his men to turn north. They refused to 
continue their pursuit of His Majesty while Scot¬ 
land remained defenseless in our hands. He has with 
him no less than six thousand men, including the 
regiments of Dalhousie, Eglinton, Middleton, and 
Leven and the Dragoons of Fraser, Kirkcudbright 
and Barclay, to say nothing of the recruits of 
Clydesdale and Tweeddale which he picked up upon 
his way.” 

A murmur of amazed alarm swept through the 
room and Lord Erskine openly advised an immedi¬ 
ate retreat towards the Highland line. 

To this the Marquis courteously shook his head. 
His view was that needing men with which to op¬ 
pose Leslie, he could gain them quicker in the 
Lowland counties. Particularly as Aboyne’s quit¬ 
ting had left him with less than a hundred Horse, 
and horses which were more plentiful in the Low¬ 
lands were what he had most pressing need for. He 
glanced at Ranald for support. 

Ranald stepped forth into the centre of the room 

283 




THE HIGHLANDER 

<««« ««« ««-«« ««« « «« 

facing the Viceroy, and when he spoke, uncom¬ 
promising determination was in his face and voice. 

"My lord Marquis, my lords and gentlemen, 
our commander has every right to expect my fullest 
support in anything which he may decide to do. 
If he tells me to lead my little squadron to London 
straight, I’ll do my best to cut my way through, 
but I would be of little use to him if I could not 
as boldly tell him if I found his strategy unsound. 

" ’Tis true we need horses, but mounting a man 
does not make him a trooper and Leslie’s dragoons 
are seasoned veterans of Cromwell’s brand. I will 
need time to make cavalry of the raw recruits 
capable of withstanding them. Without strong 
cavalry support in this open country, our infan¬ 
try is doomed. No infantry in the world can with¬ 
stand a cavalry charge unaided except O’Cahan’s 
Irish, of which he has less than five hundred left 
and our Highlanders, of which Alasdair, in his 
selfishness, took off the best. We must return to 
the Highland line.” 

Montrose flushed with impatience as a murmur 
of acquiescence went about the room, intermingled 
with the opposition of the Lowland gentry. 

"Colonel Mackenzie’s reasoning is sound, but 
to follow it is to give up virtually all we have 
fought for—all we have gained. Valuable time 
will be lost recruiting in the north and we are not 

284 



PHILIPHAUGH 
«« < < < « << «<«« « < ■ < ■ ««< < ■ < - < - < 

certain that we could induce the Highlands to 
descend again to the Border, much less cross it; and 
that, as you know, is my intent—to offer His 
Majesty this tangible service.” 

"Aye, my lord, well we know that,” continued 
Ranald, " ’tis your abiding passion to fight your 
way to his side, but commendable as it may seem, 
it is the one weak link in your strategy—of which 
too little has been said in these councils. ’Tis hope¬ 
less; never has a Scottish army carried war suc¬ 
cessfully into England. ’Tis too far from our hills 
for the Highlander who has always been the 
backbone of our offensive—say what these Border 
gentlemen will. We do not fight with confidence in 
the Lowland levies and the Lowlanders are equally 
suspicious of us—with some justice. Just as soon 
as our Highlanders fill their sporrans they’re off 
to the hills. An army of such men cannot invade 
a foreign country no matter how well they fight 
in defence of their own bailiwicks! 

"The most you can do is hold what you have won. 
You have defeated six armies and destroyed them, 
and for a time, you can continue to do so, but come 
what will and strive as you may, you will never be 
permanently successful beyond the Highland line. 

"You cannot suffer a defeat such as you have im¬ 
posed upon your opponents. There is no hope for 
you, my lord, of freeing His Majesty of the 

285 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<< <<<<< ■ < ■ < ■ < ■<<■<<■<■<■<<<■<■<■ < ■<■<<< < ■<■<<<<<<<<< 

Covenant yoke. If you are undefeated you can 
make it easier for him by keeping valuable troops 
in Scotland to oppose you. But once defeated, 
you are through—you can never survive it—the 
jackals will pull you down. 

"If His Majesty and his cavaliers look to us for 
succour—they look in vain. If they are to win, 
they must do so by dint of their own right arms— 
it is no more than we are doing here—and some¬ 
thing less, I ken, for we drew some of their best 
against us. Aye, and beat them when outnumbered 
three to one. And I would add, my lords and 
gentlemen, if they are worth saving they can do 
as much for themselves as we poor Scots can do to 
help them!” 

Montrose came to his feet, his eyes flashing. 

"Colonel Mackenzie, I’ll not suffer such com¬ 
ment of His Majesty from one of my command.” 

But Ranald gave him look for look. 

"My lord, I think you will have to. I lent His 
Majesty my sword. I’ll fight for him to the end, 
as well you know—I’ll give my life for him, if 
necessary. But I will not forget that I am a 
Mackenzie and as such I have the right to my 
opinion of any man. As long as I stake my all in 
his cause, win or lose, good or bad, IT1 criticise any 
one save God!” 

"You will not do so here!” 

286 



PHILIPHAUGH 
« «< <■ <■ ««<<<■« « < < <- <««<<«« 

"I am doing so! If you go not behind the High¬ 
land line you will lose, my lord, barring a miracu¬ 
lous streak of luck, and you have had over much 
of that. And if Charles Stuart and his cause is 
worth while then with the nobility of England be¬ 
hind him he should be able to hold his own over the 
Border—if he cannot do that, while we hold the 
north for him, his cause is not healthy enough to 
be worth the sacrifice of the noble blood of Scot¬ 
land which is represented in this room.” 

A murmur of approval filled the chamber to be 
silenced by a sweeping glance from Montrose. He 
stood with his hand clinched upon the table, until 
the knuckles showed white under his windburned 
skin. Complete silence reigned as, nothing daunted, 
Ranald stood his ground. I could not but warm 
to his uncompromising honesty and I felt that 
every Highlander present knew that he was right. 
Greater effort could not be expected of us with 
the force at our command or if strengthened only 
by the raw and unreliable levies of the Lowlands. 

Finally our leader spoke, and in doing so showed 
the great man he was. "Colonel Mackenzie, there 
is only one reason why I do not ask you for your 
sword—the King needs it. It is therefore more use¬ 
ful to me in your hand than it would be in my pos¬ 
session. We will continue our march to Roxburgh 
at dawn.” 


287 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<■<■<■<< < - < - < - ««« <<< < < < «<« 

Ranald bowed and stalked from the room. 

On the morrow we turned right and proceeded 
down the Gala Water towards Tweedside and two 
days later at Torwoodle we were greatly heartened 
by the arrival of Douglas with a thousand horse 
from Nithsdale and Clydesdale, consisting of the 
local gentry and their retainers. Ranald, to whom 
I spoke of this encouragement, shook his head. 
He had the eye for appraising soldiers and he saw 
in them an unstable rabble with none of the old 
Borderer’s tenacity of purpose. Then came Linton 
with his Peebleshire troops and marching slowly 
on down the Tweed, we approached Kelso, where 
we were to meet Roxburgh and Hume. 

We waited their coming for a day and then re¬ 
ceived the disheartening news that the precious pair 
were the prisoners of Leslie, or so the story ran, 
captured by Middleton’s Horse, and the tale smelt 
evilly of stale fish. It seemed unlikely that two 
such powerful nobles would have been caught nap¬ 
ping in the heart of their own country, some 
twenty miles from the line of Leslie’s advance, un¬ 
less they did so deliberately, feeling that they 
would be safer in his hands than they would op¬ 
posed to him. 

Montrose turned warily up the Tweed, it being 
unwise to tarry at Kelso since the hope of the 
Border was fruitless. Douglas had overestimated 

288 



PHILIPHAUGH 

<<<<<<< << < <<< « <<<<<<<<<<<< << << <««« « «• 
his influence in a land where the Kirk was all- 
powerful and recruits few and far between. Mon¬ 
trose was forced to turn his eyes back to the hills 
as Ranald had urged him to do. We went to 
Jedburgh, but there was no encouragement from 
the Covenanting Kerrs. Then on to the land of 
Buccleuch, where our Irish were looked upon 
askance and no one would come to join us, and 
we eventually arrived at Selkirk outside of which 
the army camped on the flats of Philiphaugh, be¬ 
side the Ettrick waters. Our position was but 
loosely held, as the enemy was believed to be far 
away on the Forth where Montrose intended to 
pursue them. Our guns were placed and a shal¬ 
low trench dug in front of them, the camp pro¬ 
tected on the south and east by the Ettrick, on the 
west by the Yarrow and to the north by a line of 
hills. 

A staff council was held that night at Mon¬ 
trose’s lodging in the West Port of Selkirk. Sir 
John Spottswoode was bidden to write again to 
Digby and press him for his oft-promised cavalry. 
Many things were taken up but little was accom¬ 
plished. The Marquis was in low spirits, engendered 
by fatigue, and his depression was reflected in his 
staff. The council dawdled to a close, and long 
after they had left he sat over his correspondence 
and maps. I was on duty that night and a few 

289 




THE HIGHLANDER 
«« «« «« < «««< ««■<■< «««<««««< 

hours before dawn I remonstrated with him for 
not getting some rest. He stretched his arms and, 
pushing back his chair, stood up and walked to 
the fire. 

"There is no rest for me, Sannoch, for there is 
no end. As soon as we crush an enemy another 
springs up in his place. ’Tis like a nightmare. A 
month ago I held Scotland in the hollow of my 
hand—and where is it now? Colonel Mackenzie is 
right so far as he can see. Our strength is in the 
Highlands, but the reason for it is obscure. The 
Covenant still holds the money bags; they can 
pay their troops and I cannot. I must wave the 
spoils of conquest in front of the Highlanders, 
thereby alienating the Lowlands. I know that I 
cannot hold Scotland unless I conquer the 
Lowlands or win them to my side, and in no 
other way can I bring lasting benefit to His 
Majesty. 

"Yet to return to the hills, and degenerate to 
the level of a raiding Highland chief, is to admit 
defeat and but to postpone the inevitable. It is 
here that the decision must be won. My hope is 
that we can delay the battle until we whip these 
Lowland levies into shape. God knows they fought 
well enough in the Border Wars, they should do 
so again.” 

He rested his brow on the mantel shelf and mur- 

290 



PHILIPHAUGH 

mured moodily to himself, apparently forgetting 
my presence for the moment. 

"If only I had Alasdair’s Ulstermen and the clans 
to brace them I would have little to fear. We could 
tear Leslie to pieces and be over the Border in a 
week. If only they had stood by me for but a 
little while. If only Seaforth could think a little 
of his King and less of himself. His Mackenzies 
muster more claymores than I have ever com¬ 
manded. Can you not think what I could ac¬ 
complish with them—and your hot-headed cousin 
to lead them? If Huntly could only bury his in¬ 
sane jealousy and let his Gordons fight.” 

He raised his head and pounded his fist upon 
the shelf in impotent rage. 

"If, if, if! it’s always that, but the trouble is 
deeper. It is my lack of money—money that be¬ 
gins to rule the world, and the greed of my sup¬ 
porters. Even Alasdair’s barony was too much 
for him and he marches off to settle his own ac¬ 
counts instead of waiting until His Majesty’s work 
is done.” 

"My lord,” I remonstrated, " ’tis the history of 
Scotland repeating itself, yet in the end other 
leaders have won even as you will.” 

"I wonder? Kilsyth should have been my Ban¬ 
nockburn. Scotland was more united then than 
now, and money did not rule. In civil war it is 

291 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<■<<■<<<<<<<<<<<<< < ■ < < << < <<<<< 

the paid armies that will win. But get you to bed, 
Sannoch, and seek your rest.” 

It was a dismal morning, everything was en¬ 
veloped in a thick mantle of impenetrable fog. It 
seeped into the house and everything was damp 
and sticky. Young Ogilvy of Powrie, in from a 
fruitless patrol, had just awakened me, remarking 
that it was a miserable day to march when there 
was a clatter of hoofs in the courtyard and Cap¬ 
tain Blackadder flung himself into the house wild¬ 
eyed and crying for the Marquis. 

The thunderbolt had struck. Our troops had 
but finished their breakfast and were assembling 
for parade when through the fog came the pound¬ 
ing of Leslie’s Horse. Before Blackadder had fin¬ 
ished with his devastating news, Montrose was in 
the saddle and galloping to the scene followed by 
Crawford, old Airlie, Napier and others of us who 
were with him in Selkirk. 

The scene which met our eyes was one of fright¬ 
ful confusion. O’Cahan’s superb Irish stood like 
a rock in their shallow trench against which waves 
of Leslie’s cavalry broke in vain. The single squad¬ 
ron of cavalry under Ranald had charged Kirk¬ 
cudbright’s Dragoons driving them back in con¬ 
fusion and were reforming to charge again when 
Montrose put himself at their head. But the 
cravenly levies of Douglas fled at the first alarm. 

292 



PHILIPHAUGH 

««« < < < <<<<<<<<<<<< <k<k < < «.< < < <«-<-<- 

Montrose led the second charge of the reformed 
Horse increased by his staff and gentlemen, fight¬ 
ing so furiously that for a time the entire Covenant 
cavalry was driven back, giving the Irish a chance 
to reform. Then if we still had with us the men 
of the Western Isles and the mighty Alasdair, the 
day might still have been saved, but alas, the gal¬ 
lant Marquis’ bright star had set. It was doomed 
to glimmer on the horizon of the Highlands for 
a few short months, until obscured by the mists of 
self-interest and petty politics. It was to rise and 
flash again five years hence, but for a while and 
then be laid to rest forever in the hearts of his 
countrymen. 

There was no Alasdair to lead his berserks into 
the face of death and drive it cringing before his 
valour. The Highland host had dwindled to a 
few of the faithful who would have followed him 
to hell. 

Doggedly, foot by foot, O’Cahan’s infantry 
gave their ground, again and again they drove 
Leslie back, but each time at fearful cost, which 
left their ranks thinner. The cavalry charged and 
reformed and charged again, sword arms weary 
and horses ready to drop, and held up the enemy, 
saving the very cravens who had deserted them at 
the first alarm. 

But six hundred cannot fight an army forever. 

293 



THE HIGHLANDER 

Realising that the rest would be butchery, I de¬ 
tached myself from the cavalry which Ranald 
sought to reform for one more onslaught and rode 
off to find my Sannoch men and die with them. 

True to their post, I found them on the right of 
the line with the remains of the Highland con¬ 
tingent. They and the Ulstermen, now numbering 
less than three hundred, had been driven into their 
last position midst the sheepfolds and byres of 
Philiphaugh Farm. It was the towering presence 
of old Dougal which guided me to them. The 
valiant little band stood at bay in the angle of a 
stone wall before which lay a heap of Covenant 
dead. Rory Oig, his face scarlet from a clip on 
the pate, which in no way dampened his ardour for 
battle, stood screaming Gaelic curses and brandish¬ 
ing his claymore at Dalhousie’s Regiment which 
could be dimly seen through the fog, reforming in 
front. Colin was hastily reloading his musketoon, 
his sword stuck readily in the ground beside him. 

Of the score who had followed me from San¬ 
noch, but a handful now remained. Kilsyth had 
taken two, others had been dispatched to the hills 
with booty, and here in the shambles before me 
lay a bitter toll. Six men, who held allegiance to San¬ 
noch, were on their feet—well, no matter, we had 
made our bed of thorns and would lie in it to¬ 
gether. This was the end to all our dreams—to 

294 



PHILIPHAUGH 

««««« « « ■<«<«<*««« 

be hacked down in the dung heaps of the old farm. 

But Dougal thought otherwise; his indomitable 
spirit knew no defeat which could not be remedied. 
Reading my thoughts aright, as I was about to dis¬ 
mount and join them, he grasped my bridle. 

"No,” he shouted, "catch us up some of those 
riderless horses, and we’ll awa’ when the fog lets 
doon agen. You owe it to the Glen, Sannoch. 
Would you leave it to Mactavish’s mercy?” 

The name of my enemy heartened me like old 
wine. Dougal was right: we had given all that 
counted for the cause. I was a poor laird indeed 
if I thought not of the loved ones of those who had 
died for me. There were many riderless horses, 
whose saddles had been emptied by Highland 
musketoon and pike, trotting about and adding 
to the confusion. And the poor frightened things 
were easily caught and handled—they seemed to 
look to man, who got them into trouble, to get them 
out again. 

Riding back with one, as Wallace brought in 
another, Dougal signified that the time had come, 
for the heavy enveloping fog had let down again. 
Bidding two of the men to catch hold of my stirrup 
leathers, I trotted off at a lively pace, the others 
following. 

We splashed through the Yarrow and made in a 
westerly direction whilst the din and firing in 

295 



THE HIGHLANDER 
«« ■ «<«« ■ « ■<■< « «< « < -<-<-<-< < <<<< << < < << < < < < 

the distance dribbled off into a desultory sputter¬ 
ing, deadened by the fog and the widening gap 
between us. Soon we were in a wild moorland 
country following the lead of two Selkirk men 
who had come away with us. Some ten miles from 
the battlefield they led us across the headwaters 
of the Tweed and we stopped on the far bank to 
rest. It was now about noon and the exhausted 
men dropped on their faces in the heather, whilst 
we loosed the girths on our weary horses and 
tethered them to feed on the grass which fought 
for a living about the wettish places. 

There were many wounds and abrasions to be 
attended to after which we collected all the food 
there was amongst us and apportioned to each his 
share. It was not much, but a couple of lengths 
of sausage and a bannock or two washed down 
with cool burn water will go a long way towards 
reviving famished men. 

I offered to administer to Rory’s pate, but he 
only laughed and soused it in a nearby pool, adding 
that it was no time to dally on the brae like a silly 
lot of sheep when we could expect Leslie’s Horse to 
be scouring the country before long. Realizing the 
truth of this, we again started on our way, head¬ 
ing in a northwesterly direction, the sooner to 
reach the blessed hills from which I, for one, hoped 
that I should never wander again. Our pace was 

296 



PHILIPHAUGH 

««««<<< < << ■ << << < < < <<<<<<<<<^<< < <- < -<<<<<< 

slow for as the sun burned off the mist, the in¬ 
creased heat sapped our fast dying energies and we 
floundered on through the thick heather avoiding 
the boggy places as best we could. 

The lonely moorland stretched away from us in 
every direction as far as the eye could reach. Wearily 
dragging ourselves up a long exhausting slope we 
would behold another great flat expanse before us 
and struggle on until suddenly we came to a 
brink where the water flowed far below. It was 
while we were on one of these broad plateaus that, 
looking fearfully to the rear, I saw a large body 
of horsemen. At my exclamation of warning 
Dougal acted instantly. Bidding me dismount, he 
and Rory quickly threw the horses and we all lay 
flat in the heather, praying that we had not been 
seen. 

Undoubtedly it was a Covenant troop seeking 
refugees from the battle, and woe betide our little 
band if they had spied us. They were a couple of 
miles away when first we perceived them and 
with a line of low lying hills at our backs, it was 
possible that we had not caught their eye. As we 
watched, a muttered warning from Colin drew 
our fearful attention to another group of horse¬ 
men riding in such a direction that it would take 
them diagonally to our rear. We all took heart 
when both groups trotted out of sight over the sky- 

297 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

line, but we still lay like a covey of frightened 
partridge, afraid to move. 

Said Dougal, "Let one warning be enough. Our 
only chance is to get rid of these horses and lie close 
till dark. The laird will have to walk with the rest 
of us.” 

I was glad to do so, for nothing would have led 
me to ride off and leave them. And I was unhurt 
while some of the men, though not seriously 
wounded, were beginning to show the strain of 
our journey. 

As soon as it seemed safe they removed the 
saddlery from the horses and turned them loose. 
As they wandered off, for all the world like two 
moor ponies, we again lay down in the heather to 
await the friendly shield of darkness. 

When the soft folds of evening mellowed the 
light, Dougal took a careful spy and bid us start, 
for he was anxious to reach some point of vantage 
for a last look about before it was too dark. 

Climbing to the top of a knobie, we beheld the 
horsemen still combing the heather on another 
moor beyond a deep glen from us. I can see Rory 
now leaning on his claymore with the blood red sun 
gleaming upon his ruddy face, while he balefully 
watched the grim searchers, his heart bitter with 
the gall of hatred and impotency. 

That night we were well into the Pentland Hills 

298 



PHILIPHAUGH 
< < < << < << < < <<< << <<<< «-<*«< < < < < < 

where we dropped supperless in the heather to 
sleep like dead men. There was no thought of 
placing a watch, and indeed not one of us was 
capable of keeping it. In the morning we were 
desperate for food. Come what might we had 
to chance it, for without nourishment it was im¬ 
possible to go on another day. Sighting a croft, 
we split up so as to approach it from all sides and 
prevent anyone from running off to give warning 
of our presence and stalked silently upon the 
buildings. The crofter’s family were eating their 
morning porrich as we appeared at the door and 
all sprang up in alarm. As indeed they had cause 
to do for we must have presented a wild and for¬ 
bidding appearance. I told them that we meant 
no harm and that I would pay well for all they 
gave us, warning them with dire threats of ven¬ 
geance if they betrayed us to the Covenanters. 

The crofter assured us that they were friendly to 
our cause and gave us their porrich, bidding the 
good wife make more and provided us with a couple 
of cold bannocks and what was more welcome, a 
black bottle of spirits, for which I gave him two 
gold coins to help seal his mouth. I had little fear 
that the simple fellow would betray us for he no 
doubt had never seen so much wealth before, but 
we could not take chances. So after putting an 
hour between us, we turned sharp west and went 

299 



THE HIGHLANDER 
«<■«<■<■< ««« « ■< <«< « ■<■««« ««« ««« 

on for a few miles more when, the morning being 
well advanced, we hid away in the bracken and 
awaited the coming of another night. 

The Forth was a barrier which we knew too 
well would be vigilantly guarded, and bearing to 
the west, we passed through Linlithgow in the 
night keeping to bypaths and lonely roads in the 
general direction of Kilsyth, from where on we 
knew the country well. The next day we were in 
the Campsie Fells well west of Stirling and com¬ 
paratively safe for the moment as many of the 
people were friendly to us and we had little dif¬ 
ficulty in getting food. Four days later, weary 
unto death we staggered into Sannoch where, until 
the bloodhounds of the Covenant were turned loose 
to hunt us down, we could rest. 


300 



«<«« *«« «« - 

CHAPTER XVIII 
«« « ■ < •< <« «-<-<-<- 


The Reckoning 

Again I sat before the fire in the ancient hall of 
my ancestors, the scene of Sannoch’s greatness and 
its fall, idly stroking the staghound’s head and 
bitterly considering all that had happened to me 
and my people in one short year and but a little 
more. A year of ceaseless strife and bloodshed— 
a year of high ambition and utter despair—a year 
of ecstasy and misery and degradation—to end 
mayhap upon the gallows. 

A fantastic panorama of jumbled events flitted 
about in the flames of the birch logs—Ranald in 
his great blue cloak, stamping the snow from 
his jack boots. Where was he now with his high 
hopes, proud as Lucifer, implacable and cold as 
steel, yet true as steel, too? Probably food for the 
corbies on that awful field at Philiphaugh. Well, 
no matter, it was a fitting end—would that mine 
could be as gallant. 

Montrose,—the glittering feast to Alasdair at 
Blair Atholl, where he flung the Campbells into 

301 




THE HIGHLANDER 

the jaws of his dogs of war—the terrible march 
on Inverlochy—the stricken field of Auldearn— 
God! it still made me retch. Montrose sitting his 
horse at Kilsyth with Scotland, the Scotland he 
hoped for, in his grasp,—Montrose as he sought to 
justify himself before Philiphaugh because his 
honesty to his followers and his love for his King 
made him do so. 

And Ellen—I seemed to see her bronze tresses 
in the ruddy glow, as with her arms outstretched to 
me, she pled with me to come to her. That I could 
never do now, pride forbade that I should seek 
her when beaten to my knees, with a rope ready 
for my neck. Ellen with her soft mouth pressed 
to mine, in the inn at Crief—Ellen tickling me to 
wakefulness in the haymow. Ellen fleeing like a 
fawn with us through the alleys of Edinburgh— 
That was over, too. 

And Mactavish, curse him, the seat of all my 
woes—leering at me in Blair, taunting me in public 
and seeking my life in the dark—who murdered 
my brother and harried my glen. What good now 
our retaliation? Where in the name of God was 
the justice in it all? 

Dougal came in with a bottle and cups, to sit 
down heavily across the table. I had been drinking 
much since my return, to silence the qualms and 
utter despair and drive the stench of stale blood 

302 



THE RECKONING 


1 < < < < -<-<*««« <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< «■<■«■< 

from my nostrils. It was not for myself that I 
despaired, but my poor clansmen, whom I could 
do nothing to relieve. Were I like Ranald I had 
simply to shake the dust of Scotland from my 
feet, take ship to the Low-countries, and sell my 
sword to the highest bidder. But I could not do 
that; I was the laird, I had to stand by the Glen, 
probably to be chevied about until caught and 
dragged to the Tolbooth. 

I poured hot water from the kettle into my 
whisky and took a sip, and then— Ben raised his 
head with ears acock and with a roar dashed to the 
door as the pounding of hoofs drummed over the 
turf. 

"Hello, within!” 

No need to ask, there was but one such voice! 

"Sweet Christ be thanked!” cried Dougal over¬ 
turning the settle in his haste to get to the door, 
where, in his excitement, he could hardly let down 
the bars. Then out we dashed to knock Ranald 
clear off his feet and catch him to us ere he fell. 
Shouting questions, cursing, and giving thanks all 
in one we dragged him in whilst the hound clawed 
the cloak from off his back. 

"For Holy Mary, give me a drink before you 
kill me!” he cried with a laugh, on seeing the bottle, 
and thrusting us from him, seized it, turning a 
good part of its contents down his throat. 

303 



THE HIGHLANDER 

"Now! I see you made it! Thank God for that, 
laddie. I broke away as soon as I could, knowing 
you would make here if you were alive. Did any 
of the rest of yours get clear?” 

I indicated Dougal, and added that Red Wallace, 
Rory, young Colin and two of the Macleans had 
come home with me. 

"Might have known it,” he said with satisfac¬ 
tion. "Peace-loving folk say that only the best go 
to war. That’s true, but the best of the best are 
most likely to come home. Well, it’s no so bad as 
it might be; you left some here and dispatched 
others back, with the loot. You will soon be in the 
field again, with luck,—I was with Montrose, 
Douglas, Dalziel, the Napiers and Erskine. With 
about thirty troopers we cut our way through and 
rode like the hammers of hell for Traquair where 
the bastard closed the gates on us. The best thing 
he could have done, for had we been admitted, 
they would no doubt have overtaken us and cap¬ 
tured the Marquis. 

"Fording the Clyde the following day, we ran 
into old Airlie—you cannot kill that ancient pala¬ 
din—and Crawford. Montrose has ridden north 
with them to raise the clans. This time he will stay 
in the hills, I trust. So you see, it’s no so bad, 
laddie. After all, we lost few Highlanders due to 
their miserliness and the loyal Lowlanders were 

304 





THE RECKONING 

««< ««<< <<<<<< << < <<< <<<-<-<^< <<< < < < <<<< -<- < 

not worth their salt any way. It’s only the Ulster¬ 
men that I mourn,—them, we cannot replace— 
but send out for your men. I have news that calls 
for them.” 

"But, Ranald,” I cried, "we are not fit and far 
too few. We cannot go out now!” 

"Listen, laddie, you’re not going out yet, you 
may never go out again. Mactavish is on his way 
here with forty Horse at his back to take you.” 

We took the news in stunned silence—the blow 
had fallen at last. 

"Then,” Dougal said, "you must awa’ to the 
hills, Sannoch. HI go prepare.” 

"Hold,” said Ranald, "how about the tower and 
the village, are you going to leave that to their ten¬ 
der mercy?” 

"What can we do?” asked Dougal. "There is no 
one in the place, but we, young Colin, his father 
and a couple of gillies and lassies. We canna hold 
the place with sic, all the rest are in their crofts on 
the hills or in the village. The last we can get in, 
if there be time enough, but at that we muster less 
than a dozen.” 

Ranald paced the floor. "There’s a way,” he 
said, "and we must try it. I have been planning it 
all the way over here; this villain must not escape 
again.” 

I thought him mad—well I knew his indomitable 

305 




THE HIGHLANDER 
<<**<<*<*<<<<<<<<■<< «« <■<■« <««-««««« 

spirit—but that he could entertain the hope of an¬ 
other victory in the face of such odds was too 
much for me. 

"How long have we?” asked Dougal anxiously. 

"Oh, enough time to get the villagers—send off 
your gillies to warn them. Best leave the village to 
its fate and send the women and children to the 
hills. But bid the men be here within the hour.” 

Dougal went off and Ranald waved a question 
of mine aside and continued to stare in the fire 
thinking his own thoughts until the giant returned. 

"Dougal, does the portcullis work?” 

"Oh, aye, this twa year, sin’ I put it in repair 
just before your coming, though the laird here 
thought it nonsense.” 

"Does it work easily?” 

"Aye, I cleared the tracks, replaced the old chains 
and greased them regularly; ’twill fall of its own 
weight with the chucks removed.” 

"Good! Your fortune may depend upon this 
nonsense of Dougal’s, cousin—where does it oper¬ 
ate from?” 

"From the laird’s room above the door.” 

"Let us look at it.” 

We mounted the stairs to my room and looked 
at the ancient portcullis, a huge iron grill which 
was hoisted out of sight into a cleft in the low ceil¬ 
ing. Often I had cursed it because it sometimes 

306 



THE RECKONING 

made the room draughty. Stepping close one could 
see the doorstep and shallow passage to it through 
the portcullis channel in the floor. 

Ranald stepped back, and turned to me. 

"Cousin, are you ready for one desperate cast— 
the last one for your all? Win, you win all, lose, 
you are lost indeed.” 

"Will my people be any the worse if I take it?” 

"No, for they stand or fall with you; your gain 
is their gain.” 

"Yes,” I answered, "I am ready for anything so 
long as they sacrifice no more by it.” 

He turned back to Dougal. "Get a stout rope 
and fasten it through the falls to the portcullis, 
so that the other end can be fastened to this bed. 
Then unfasten the chains so that its weight is held 
solely by the rope. 

"Mactavish is at Aberfeldy, or was. He stopped 
to rest his troops and will plan to get here before 
dawn. ’Tis luck I cast a shoe outside the town for 
otherwise I would have run into their arms. But 
he had sent for the smith to come in and look after 
their mounts, from which labour he had just re¬ 
turned, when I got to his forge. And he slipped 
me the news, so that I rode around and came on as 
fast as I could. We should still have three or four 
hours. 

"When they get here, my plan is to place some 

307 




THE HIGHLANDER 

< ■ < ■ < < < « « « 

of the men below in the buttery and others on the 
stairs so as to take them on all sides. Let a light 
or two gleam dimly in upper windows and leave 
one or two likewise in the village so it will not have 
a deserted look. They will no doubt pass it by 
until they are finished here. When they demand 
entrance, let old Colin go to the door and on de¬ 
mand open it. I make no doubt that amongst the 
first to rush in will be Mactavish. Dougal will 
stand by the rope up here with his axe and when I 
see Mactavish well in, I will blow your horn. That 
is his signal to cut the rope and bring our men 
forth. Those inside will be caught like rats in a 
trap, and you, old friend,” sticking a finger in 
Dougal’s ribs, "as soon as you cut the rope don’t 
fail to set the chucks so that it cannot be raised, 
before you come to the baiting. 

"No doubt some will be killed before they throw 
down their arms, but make sure that all are not, 
for to save the village from another burning, it 
will be necessary to hold hostages. It’s all clear, is 
it not?” 

"Mon, dear,” cried Dougal, " ’tis beautiful, and 
’twill work.” 

"One thing I insist on—” 

"I know, Sannoch, you want Mactavish for your 
own. Well, you shall have him—mind that, Dou¬ 
gal. I will cut down any man that touches him 

308 



THE RECKONING 


< ^ <<<<<< ■<< < <<<<<<<< < < < 

until Sannoch is through with him or down—after 
that he is mine and he will not leave here except 
as a corpse.” 

Rory came in from the village as blithe as if to 
a wedding, having already heard the plan from 
Colin, who had sped off for him, and one by one, 
the plan was retold as the others gathered, until 
we mustered fourteen with the two Selkirk men 
who had decided to stay on. 

When the portcullis was adjusted, we all repaired 
to the old hall where the spirits were passed around 
and the fire refreshed while Ranald told us all he 
had gathered of the aftermath of Philiphaugh— 
how the Covenant celebrated their first victory in 
a welter of blood. The last of the Irish on the field 
had surrendered on promise of quarter; but the 
ministers insisted that 'the Lord’s work go on.’ 
Three hundred Irish women and children, the 
miserable but faithful camp followers who had 
marched backwards and forwards across Scotland, 
were butchered on the field. And the following 
day the Ulstermen who had surrendered were cut 
down to a man in the courtyard of Newark Castle. 

Their leader, the gallant O’Cahan, was spared 
for the moment, but only to meet a shameful death 
later in the city of Edinburgh. 

My little band sat about on the flags of the hall 
drinking their toddy and listening to the dreadful 

309 



THE HIGHLANDER 

news, but so inspiring was Ranald’s presence that 
no one seemed to think of the long chance before 
us. It was as if they confidently considered the 
coup as good as won. Until Ranald, sensing the 
lateness of the hour, put an end to the drinking and 
ordered each man to his post. 

Time went on, the fire burned down to a few 
smouldering coals which glowed in the blackness. 
Then in the distance we heard a dog bark. In a 
moment it was taken up by a dozen, so unused 
were they to nocturnal disturbances. We heard 
the clatter of hoofs on the road, followed by a 
jingle of equipment as they turned off on the soft 
turf towards the tower. There was a hoarse com¬ 
mand to halt, much stamping of feet followed by 
a thunderous knocking on the door. 

"Open in the name of the Covenant!” 

Dougal had sped to his post, and Ranald and I 
mounted the stairs to a turn where we could see 
well to the door without disclosing ourselves. Old 
Colin opened his lanthorn, the better for us to see 
when our man was in the trap, and shuffled to the 
door while Ben, locked in the kitchen out of harm’s 
way, roared his protest. 

Colin fumbled with the peep— "What do you 
want?” he quavered as if frightened out of his wits. 

"Come on! Open the door. We want the Laird 
of Sannoch, and have an order for his arrest.” 

310 



THE RECKONING 

«««<<<<<<< <<<<<<<<<<< <<<<<< <■<■<■<■<-<■ <<<<<< 

"He’ s no here whatever; he’s no hame frae the 
wars.” 

"He isn’t, eh? Will you open up—you old fool! 
We’ll see for ourselves and crack your pate in the 
bargain if we have to beat in the door. Open, I 
say! 

The old man fumbled with the bolts and bars 
and as it gave way, the door was flung back upon 
him and they poured in. A sergeant and four 
troopers first—then Mactavish followed by others 
pressing on his heels. They strode into the room— 
would Ranald never blow? I was ready to shriek 
a command when the blast came. They stopped in 
their tracks and with a crash that shook the place, 
the portcullis fell, pinning a soldier under its points. 
Out our men rushed from the buttery as we came 
down the stairs followed by Dougal. There were 
more of them within than I had counted on, but 
Ranald had chanced that to get Mactavish well in¬ 
side before he gave the signal. Nevertheless, the 
element of surprise was on our side as well as bet¬ 
ter men. 

One look Mactavish had given towards the port¬ 
cullis and no sooner had I reached the floor of the 
hall than he saw me and rushed in, swinging a ter¬ 
rific blow with his broadsword that all but beat 
down my guard. In the open with room to ma¬ 
noeuvre, I verily believe that I could have bested 

311 



THE HIGHLANDER 

him, but there in the dimly lighted hall, jostled 
by others, and never knowing when a blow would 
be struck from behind, there was no chance to use 
my point. It was a case of cut, guard, and riposte. 

Meanwhile the fight was going forward about 
us and Mactavish was forced to give ground with 
his men to avoid exposing his flank. Ranald kept 
out of the melee, a watchful eye upon us. DougaPs 
axe and Colin and Rory with their swords had 
each disposed of their man while Red Wallace was 
dirking one under the table. Mactavish made an¬ 
other cut at me which I ducked and coming in 
close with my lighter weapon, presented the point 
and forced him to spring to the rear. Dougal dis¬ 
posed of another and Ranald coolly shot down a 
man who sought to get behind me. Then, as I 
pressed the fight to my enemy, someone lurched 
against me throwing me off balance. Quick as a 
panther Mactavish took the advantage and swung 
a two-hander at my left shoulder. I caught it on 
my blade but it was the weak side and I was off 
balance. The mighty claymore beat down my 
guard and bit deep into my shoulder. 

As I staggered from the blow Ranald engaged 
him and someone drew me to the rear. Meanwhile 
the Covenanters were crying for quarter and Mac¬ 
tavish sprang back and put the table between him 
and his foe. 


312 



THE RECKONING 
<< ■ <<<<<<< ■ < < < <<< < ■ < <<<< < << <■<■««■< 

Midst the groans of the wounded, I was dimly 
conscious for the first time of the thunderous at¬ 
tack on the portcullis from without and I sank 
back, sick with weakness, against the wall. 

"Lights!” cried Ranald. "Pay no attention to 
that rabble without. They can do nothing for the 
moment.” 

Someone threw some brush upon the fire and as 
it flared up, I had a good look at Mactavish stand¬ 
ing behind the table. His face was white with pas¬ 
sion and any moment I expected to see him throw 
himself on us all and go down fighting. 

"Watch him!” Ranald said, reading his thoughts, 
"if he makes a move, Colin, blow his brains out. 
Meanwhile, the rest of you bind these fellows and 
take them to the battlement where their barking 
friends may see them.” The task was soon done 
and tightly bound, they were herded up the nar¬ 
row stairs. 

"Mactavish,” he said after a bit and we all 
waited breathlessly upon his words, "you have 
failed again. Dougal is showing our hostages from 
the battlement and telling the balance of your 
bastardly psalm-singing rabble that they have five 
minutes to start from the glen or the nine of them 
will swing, one a minute from the walls. You’re 
an evil man, Mactavish, but I think you have 
cooked your last devil’s broth and are about to 

313 



THE HIGHLANDER 

<<<<<<<<<<< << <<<<< 

stew in it. You deserve to die and I think you will, 
but you have just one chance for your life. I swear 
by my knife, as Sannoch will, that if you best me 
in fair fight here and now that no other hand will 
touch you till you leave this glen. I don’t think 
you will, but it’s your only chance.” 

Mactavish had never taken his eye from Ranald 
during his speech, never once did he look towards 
me. 

"Do you accept?” 

"Aye.” 

"Then come out, you swine, and start for hell.” 

He stepped from behind the table, balanced 
squarely on both feet, the great broadsword grasped 
in both hands. Ranald was lightly poised to meet 
him, his cut and thrust sword extended. For a 
moment they opposed each other so; there was 
not a sound in the room save the crackle of the fire 
on the hearth. 

Then suddenly Mactavish sprang like a cat. 
Ranald met the vicious stroke with the strength 
of his blade, close to the guard. Retreating rapidly 
as Mactavish followed up his attack with a cut to 
the neck, he ducked and stretched out in a light¬ 
ning-like riposte that brought the burly High¬ 
lander up short. 

Mactavish changed his tactics: he fenced with 
one hand, but braced his swings when they came, 

314 



THE RECKONING 

backing up his strokes by grasping his right wrist 
with his left hand. Feinting for his face, his arm, 
his leg with lightning-like riposte, Ranald slowly re¬ 
treated across the hall, then suddenly engaged the 
villain’s blade and coming in close with a bind, 
changed position with him so that he again had 
the length of the room at his back. Mactavish 
rushed as he turned and a stop thrust took him in 
the shoulder. 

"That’s for David,” hissed Ranald. 

Mactavish rushed again with a terrific cut, Ran¬ 
ald took it in carte partly retreating by bending 
his body back, and like a viper, his blade shot for¬ 
ward. Certain of his point, he extended in a full 
lunge. I heard the hilt thud against Mactavish’s 
doublet as the blade glistened between his shoul¬ 
der, and then as Ranald whipped it out, the broad¬ 
sword clattered to the floor and without another 
sound Mactavish fell forward on his face and lay 
quite still. 

Everything went black before me, there was a 
roaring in my ears and a great swirling light and I 
was falling, falling— 

I seemed to be in a dream; for a long time I had 
been dimly conscious of luxurious ease and peace, 
drifting eternally through space, administered to 

315 



THE HIGHLANDER 

by loving hands. Slowly the dream changed and I 
knew that I was not in the clouds, but abed. I 
heard voices vaguely familiar, but I did not want 
to awaken and have to know them. I wanted peace 
—that was it, peace and quiet. 

For ages I had been struggling with horrid beasts, 
sometimes I knew they were not real and they went 
away, but always to return. There was one, a 
slithering obscene thing that crawled after me to 
envelop me in its toils. We would grapple and 
I would stab and stab, but all to no avail; for my 
puny sword would bend like a wand and the beast 
would laugh and when it laughed I would see that 
it had the face of Mactavish. I would run and run 
over a sea of white upturned faces, trying not to 
tread upon their poor, groaning mouths. 

Now that was all over—and the clouds swept 
me on—an angel lifted me up and held me to her 
bosom and I smiled. 

"My love,” she said and her voice was like the 
soft ripple of the wind in the birches, "my own 
true love.” 

"You look like Ellen,” I whispered and my voice 
surprised me, it seemed so far away. 

"I am Ellen,” she replied, and I knew that the 
peace was true and with a sigh of happiness, I went 
off to sleep and the beast came back no more. 

Little by little I regained my strength and some 

316 



THE RECKONING 


days later, when I was able to ask intelligent ques¬ 
tions, she told me how Ranald had sent for her. 
Carrying the badge she had given me, Colin and 
Rory had traversed the Campbell country without 
molestation and brought her to me with a guard 
of Campbell followers who had peaceably resided 
with us ever since. 

She told me how Ranald and Dougal had sat by 
my cot day and night holding me down during my 
raving until she got there and that when she spoke 
to me, the beast would go away. Then Ranald 
had ridden into the north to rejoin Montrose. 

When I voiced my fears for reprisals on the 
glen, she laughed and told me not to fear so long 
as she was there with her Campbell men. 

"And you won’t leave me ever?” I queried anx¬ 
iously. 

"Nay, laddie, I am here to stay. Father Shamus 
will marry us as soon as you are strong.” 

"Your father,” I queried, "what of him?” 

"I pray he will pardon us,—I think he will in 
time. He is proud of his daughter and knows that 
I have a will of my own.” 

"I’m proud of her too,” I whispered drawing 
her down on the bed and smothering her with 
kisses. 

"Lord,” she gasped in mock terror, "if you’re as 
strong as that Father Shamus better be quick about 

317 




THE HIGHLANDER 

his wedding.” And shaking an admonishing finger 
at me, she left me—and I heard the happy voice of 
her in song as she tripped off below to get the food 
she stuffed me with, to bring back the blood which 
Mactavish had let out. 

When I found that it was two months since I 
had lost consciousness, I was appalled. Another 
month went by and we were well into December 
before I was able to sit by the fire in the old hall, 
wrapped in a plaid where I talked to Colin and 
Rory of our adventures and of what went forward 
in the north. 

News came to us fitfully: we heard how the 
Marquis gathered another little Highland army and 
waited on the dallying Gordons until he gave them 
up in despair for good and all and turned south 
to join Digby who at long last started for the Bor¬ 
der. But Digby was doomed never to meet him 
and after his disastrous defeat there was little left 
for the Marquis to do but return to the hills with 
his army of fifteen hundred foot, mostly the ever 
faithful Farquharsons and Atholl men, and some 
three hundred cavalry which Ogilvy had raised. 
When Christmas came, word reached us that he 
was back on the Speyside still dickering with 
Huntly, and carrying on a partly successful gue¬ 
rilla war. We hoped that Ranald would come to 
us, but he was far too busy. 

318 




THE RECKONING 

^<<<<< <<< < < << << -<< < <<<< << < < < ■ < ■ < ■ < - < < « <■ « « <■ < < 

So we were married in the old hall on Christmas 
Day, midst the acclaim of the clansmen of San- 
noch and their hereditary enemies, the Campbell 
men of Ellen’s sept, thereby affording them a 
double excuse for celebration. I feared the effect 
of too much wassail on their fiery temperaments 
and bade Dougal keep a sharp eye on them, but he 
laughed it off. ''For,” said he, "they cannot fight 
with their own in-laws, and three of our widows 
are already promised to Campbell men.” So were 
the Glens restocked on more than one occasion 
and what better way to discourage feuds and re¬ 
fresh the blood which all too often needed it badly? 

We were not molested from the outside, whether 
or not Ardchatten staved off Covenant reprisal 
there was no telling, but our lonely glen was far 
removed and no doubt the drubbing they had re¬ 
ceived was sufficiently discouraging. Word came 
of the siege of Inverness which was relieved by Mid¬ 
dleton, forcing Montrose to retreat into Ross and 
then we heard no more until spring when Ranald 
came trotting up to the door, with his welcome 
hail—"Hello, within!” 

A little leaner and more weatherbeaten, his fine 
French coat with the silver buttons on its great 
cuffs threadbare, and his boots down at heel, but 
his steel back and breast and the lobster casque upon 
his head were still burnished bright as silver and 

319 



THE HIGHLANDER 
^ «« < - < - < -« « «« 

his long sword cocked up behind as bravely as 
ever. 

The tumultuous welcome over, we sat down to 
hear his news, whereupon he asked me to send out 
for the men to come in. 

"Not that I would drag them out, laddie,” he 
said hastily noting my look of alarm. "That is 
all over now, but only that I may bid them good¬ 
bye before I go.” 

"Must you speak of going, when you have but 
just arrived?” 

"Aye,” he replied, "I must away in the morn¬ 
ing. I but came to bring you news that will be 
welcome. It’s all over, the King has given up the 
fight and bidden his Viceroy lay down his arms, 
quit Scotland, and wait on his further orders in 
France. Middleton made generous terms. A free 
pardon is granted to all, saving the Viceroy him¬ 
self, Sir John Hurry, and Crawford. These three 
are banished from Scotland and their estates forfeit. 
All others are to be restored. Sannoch is to have 
peace at last.” 

"Why stay you not with us?” asked Ellen. 

But he shook his head. "Nay,” he said, "I have 
hitched myself to the tail of Montrose’s cart and 
I shall follow his fortunes to the end. The time is 
not yet for me to settle down, but it is nice to 
know that I have a place to come to. Hold you the 

320 



THE RECKONING 

< <- < -«< <<<< < << <«<« ««*< « ■ < ■ < « « ««■< 

lands of Mactavish, by right of conquest, Sannoch, 
against my return. Methinks I have earned a share 
in them.” 

Early on the morrow his horse was led to the 
door, low he bent over Ellen’s hand, and then to 
hide his feelings, caught her to him and roundly 
kissed her. His eyes were very bright indeed when 
he grasped me by the shoulders and gently shook 
me. 

"Tell me, Sannoch, was I no a good prophet?” 
glancing from Ellen to me. "It’s only the bairns 
you need, to be scared off to bed with tales of bad 
uncle Ranald.” 

With that he swung himself into the saddle and 
turning, rode off across the lawn, nor did he once 
look back as he disappeared in the trees. 


321 



GLOSSARY 

«««<« « 


brae —A hillside. 

burn —A turbulent mountain brook. 
caper —An abbreviation of the name of the capercally, 
or capercailzie, the largest of the grouse family; 
a bird common to the woods in the Highlands. 
"Strutting like a caper” has reference to the proud 
mating demonstration of the cock bird. 
claymore —Gaelic Claidheamh-mor y the great sword of 
the Highland warrior, commonly confused with 
the present basket-hilted broadsword as worn with 
Highland regalia and by officers of the Scottish 
regiments. The original claymores were two-handed 
weapons, with a broad, thin blade about four feet 
six inches in length. The hilt was usually of wood 
and fitted with two flat guards which slanted 
towards the point, frequently ending in a trefoil 
design of Gothic origin. The claymore was similar 
to the two-handed knight’s sword of the fourteenth 
century and was so long over all that it was usually 
carried over the shoulder without a scabbard. 
corrie —A cup-like mountain recess. 

322 




GLOSSARY 


croft —A small holding of rented land. 
dale —A broad, lowland valley. 

Fianna —The Gaelic Sagas of Ireland, being principally 
devoted to the prowess of the chiefs and their clans 
in battle and from which we glean much that we 
know today of the dim history of the celts. 
gillie or gbillie —Male servant or henchman; a baggage 
carrier, messenger, groom, or more commonly, a 
sporting attendant. 

gillie-mhor —The chieftain’s sword-bearer, the nearest or 
most important attendant to the laird. 
glen —A deep narrow valley. 

gralloch —The blooding and cleaning of a fallen stag. 
Highland pistols —The pistol of Scotland was of unique 
design, the entire weapon being made of steel, even 
to the butt, which was usually finished with a ram’s 
horn design. The all-metal construction was influ¬ 
enced by the habit in battle of rushing upon the 
enemy and firing the pistols into their ranks at 
short range, then using the weapon as an additional 
missile and hurling it at their heads before falling 
upon them with sword and axe. 

Hold —The Hold, or tower, of Scotland is much the 
same as the inner keep of the more elaborate English 
and European castles, without the surrounding 
moat and bastioned walls. They are still common 
and many of them such as Castle Menzies, Len- 
noxlove, near Haddington, are good examples, still 
inhabited. Invariably they are square, with a short 
wing, in some instances. Usually the external meas- 

323 



GLOSSARY 

«« <<< < ^ -< << -< <<< - < - < - <<<<< << <« < <«■<■« <« «« 

urements are about eighty to ninety feet and the 
walls from eight to ten feet thick. There is only 
one entrance, usually just of sufficient height and 
breadth to admit a horse, so that only one could at¬ 
tack at a time if the ponderous door were battered 
in. The tower is usually four to five stories in 
height, surmounted by a shallow battlement, with 
small flaring turrets jutting out of the upper storey. 
In the centre of the flat-roofed battlement usually 
rises a peaked roofed centre portion set back from 
the outer wall and rising to another storey in height. 
The ceiling of the ground floor is usually some 
twenty feet in height and the windows but tiny 
loopholes set high in the sides. The windows in the 
rooms above are small so as to prevent egress. The 
upper floors are divided into store-rooms and living 
quarters of the household. The Great Hall, or main 
room on the ground floor, was the general living 
room of the tower and was used in time of need as a 
sanctuary for the peasants’ cattle. 

kern or kerne —A Celtic peasant; a soldier; a feudal re¬ 
tainer of the lower stratum of society. 

kilt —For a better understanding of this garment it 
should be understood that the kilt of the Highlander 
was very different from the garment used today. 
It was not sewed, but was wrapped about the body 
in pleated folds, held in position by a broad belt. 
It came up close to the armpits and the loose end 
was thrown over the shoulder and clasped to the 
breast with a brooch to hold it in place. This 

324 



GLOSSARY 

^ « < << <<<<<<<<<<<<<< <<<<<<<< < « ■< « «« <■ « ■ < • 

loose end could be drawn about the wearer like a 
cloak. With it and the accompanying saffron shirt, 
were worn a bonnet and brogues. 

leine-chrion —Literally, "shirt of mail,” a term used to 
describe the personal guard of the chief; those 
selected to stand by him in battle. 

Lochaber axe —A weapon popular with the Western 
Clans as late as Culloden. The halve was a straight 
shaft some four feet long and the blade was broad, 
usually some sixteen inches from top to bottom on 
the edge. Generally, it was furnished with a short 
hook at the upper end, like the bill-hooks of the 
earlier pole axes of the thirteenth century. 

marches —The boundary of private lands, counties and 
even the Border between England and Scotland. 
The principle Border nobles were known as the 
Wardens of the Marches. 

Peel toiver —See HOLD. 

pibroc or pibroch —The martial music of the bag-pipes. 

plaid —An oblong woollen cloth of tartan used as a 
cloak or outer garment. It is often confused with 
the kilt, because in the early days the two were not 
divided but worn as one. The long plaid was 
wound about the body from the armpits down, the 
upper end was thrown over the shoulder to act as 
a cloak and was held in place by a large brooch, the 
lower portion hanging loosely to the knees, form¬ 
ing the kilt proper, which was held in place by a 
belt. (See kilt,) 

saffron shirt —The Highland costume consisted of but 

325 



GLOSSARY 

««« « ■ < ■ « ««< « 

two garments, a short-sleeved, long skirted shirt 
and the tartan kilt of checked cloth. The shirt 
was made of native wool and dyed with the juices 
of lichens which gave it a yellow colour. 
sassenach —An outlander, more particularly, an English¬ 
man. 

sgian dhu or skein dhuh —Literally, black knife. The 
short-bladed dirk usually worn tucked in the right 
stocking at the knee by the kilted Highlander. It 
was a personal weapon which was never set aside, 
even in the house of a friend. 
sporran —A leather purse worn on the front of the kilt, 
taking the place of pockets. 
strath —A broad Highland valley. 
tarn —A small mountain lake. 

targe or target —The Highland shield, used in conjunc¬ 
tion with the broadsword or claymore. The targe 
is a round shield usually about twenty-four inches 
in diameter, made of oak and covered with bull’s 
hide and studded with brass or iron nails, usually 
with a short spike in the centre. 
tartan —A kind of woollen cloth wove from various 
brightly coloured yarns, from which the kilt and 
plaid are made. Each of the principal clans has its 
distinguishing pattern of which they are very proud 
and by which the members of the clan are easily 
known. 

Tolbooth —An ancient prison in the old city of Edin¬ 
burgh. So to speak, the Bastille of Scotland, where 
many political prisoners languished. 

326 







* 




















































